Charline
by BananaLoaf
Summary: Charline D'Artagnan has been living and working alongside the musketeers for months, and no one has yet found out her secret. In the course of one day, however, her entire world is going to be turned upside down, and everyone is going to know the truth... Athos/d'Artagnan (female D'Art! - please don't be put off by it! Not my favourite type of story either.)
1. Chapter 1

_A/N __I had a wee idea for another story! I love the idea of a female d'Artagnan and the relationship she would have with Athos, so I decided to investigate it a bit. I've read a couple of other fics based around this idea, which I have loved, but I am in no way attempting to infringe on anyone else's ideas. An entirely original story, I promise! :)_

_I have no idea how long it's going to be, but there's always a bit of adventure to be had! I am open to suggestions or ideas of where you want the story to go, so please take the opportunity to let me know what you think._

_Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!_

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Charline couldn't believe she had gotten away with this for so long. For six months she had been living amongst them, training and fighting beside them, becoming one of them – the inseparables. No one knew her secret. She knew the punishment if she was caught, but she was determined to keep going. The threat of flogging or even execution wasn't going to stop her being with them.

She had never expected to find her life here. She hadn't really expected to find any kind of life again after her father was murdered in front of her. If she thought about that moment she could still feel the grief strongly enough to taste it, but she didn't have time for that. She had to maintain her lie, and wallowing in grief was not going to help her do that. Sometimes at night, after a few hours in a tavern where she would pretend to drink more than she actually did, she would let herself have a moment or two to think about her father, and to wonder if he would be proud of her. He would be terrified for her, she knew, but really he had made her ready for this. Even in Gascony it was not normal for a girl to learn to fight with fists and swords, but in the absence of a son, Charline had been the choice for passing on his knowledge to. She thanked God every day that he had, or she would never be where she was now.

If she was honest with herself she could've easily died six months ago, on the day she had first entered Paris and that dark, sinister woman had attempted to seduce her. There was something about that woman that gave Charline shivers. She could've died on her second day in Paris, when she marched into the musketeers' garrison and demanded a fight to the death. If her friends had not been such honourable men she would not have seen the end of that day.

Now, thanks to Porthos, she was stronger than ever and could use her slim size to dance around her opponent in a physical fight. Aramis had trained her to fire with deadly accuracy, both pistols and muskets, which had come in extremely handy over the last few months. Athos had made sure she had never been better with a sword, although she would keep pushing herself until she could beat him.

They were her only three friends in the entire world, the only ones who had her back, who cared what happened to her, and not one of them knew the truth. She felt guilty about it, but immensely grateful that for some reason their keen observations and ability to see everything that went on around them didn't seem to work on her.

But then, her disguise was pretty good. Before she and her father had left Gascony he had dressed her as a young man, concerned about thieves and bandits on the road to Paris. He had never told her why they were going, why they had left in such a hurry, but she hadn't questioned him when he presented her with leather trousers and a jacket, old tattered riding boots and a hat. She had squirmed a bit but let him cut her hair too, her black tresses now varying in length from her chin to brush her shoulders. Now she looked like a slightly feminine 20-year-old boy. Who couldn't grow facial hair.

Aramis had taken to teasing her about her lack of beard of late, pointing out that he had never seen her shave on any of the mornings he had appeared to collect her for early duty. She just shrugged it off, trying to look a bit pissed off about it, but inwardly amused. Aramis was so warm, so caring, his teasing never held any malice, and was never designed to hurt. She envied his ease with other people, but she was trying to emulate some of his more charismatic traits, with a fair degree of success.

Three big brothers, it was more than she could ever hope for. She had two older sisters, but they were much older and had been long married and far away by the time she was old enough to miss them. She had never felt so protected, so part of something. As any little sister would she got annoyed with their over-protectiveness at times. Athos especially could be wary about letting her get involved in dangerous situations, like the whole mess with Vadim, and that was without knowing that she was, in fact, a girl.

She loved every minute of it though. She loved the freedom of being a man in Paris, the thrill of fighting, the pride of working alongside the musketeers. She loved Athos, Porthos and Aramis. What she didn't love quite so much was standing around on guard duty for hours, or stable duty, or dealing with three drunken musketeers, or lying to Constance Bonacieux, who she felt could've been a good friend for a young woman in Paris.

This may have been her most hated moment of all though, in the last six months. This moment, right now. Forget being strapped to dynamite, or being forced to protect slave traders, forget the threat of the court of miracles, or having to make a woman believe her baby was dead, if only for a moment. It was this, and Charline couldn't work out why.

"D'Artagnan? You with us?" Porthos nudged her with his shoulder, nearly sending her flying as always.

"Yes, why?" Her tone was sullen, and she still couldn't work out why.

Aramis obviously noticed. "Problem, d'Artagnan?"

She just shrugged. She was aware of Porthos and Aramis sharing a look over her head.

"Come on now, d'Art. A room full of beautiful young women? Not a bad way to spend the afternoon, don't you think?" Porthos teased her.

"If you say so." She tried to keep her voice lighter, but her eyes were firmly fixed on Athos and the blonde he was talking to.

Porthos followed her gaze. "You're not jealous are you d'Artagnan?"

Her whole body froze instantly.

"You've still got a chance with her if you want it. She hates him anyway, it's obvious." Aramis spoke confidently, but d'Artagnan snorted. That woman did not hate Athos, it was perfectly clear.

The problem was, that Charline d'Artagnan had just realised, in one instant, that she only had two big brothers. Two big brothers, and a friend that she was very much in love with.

Oh god.

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"_You're not jealous are you d'Artagnan?"_

The words rang through her head continuously as they rode back to the barracks later. An innocent remark that had set off a chain reaction of realisation. How the hell had she not noticed this before? And what the hell was she going to do now?

They were still caught up in this business with Ninon, and Athos seemed particularly distracted by it, which wasn't making d'Artagnan's life any easier at this moment. How could she not have realised how different her feelings were for this quiet, troubled musketeer? Ignorance had really been bliss.

They rode into the garrison, Athos leading the way with Porthos and Aramis bickering quietly as usual behind him. D'Artagnan trailed at the rear, thoughts and emotions whirling in her head. God, she was being such a girl about this. She dismounted quickly, handing the reins over to a ready stable boy with a half-hearted smile, and walked quietly to the trough in the corner, reaching over to splash her face with the cold water and try to sort her thoughts out. She jumped out of her skin when Athos spoke behind her.

"Everything alright d'Artagnan?

"Oh, um, yeah, of course. Why shouldn't it be?" He voice only wobbled once, and lightly.

Athos was staring at her with that look in his eyes, a look of deep concern and slight confusion. It was the way he mostly looked at her when she went quiet, and for the first time d'Artagnan realised that the swooping sensation she always felt when he did was her heart skipping a beat. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but was interrupted by Treville's voice sailing down from the balcony.

"D'Artagnan? Up here please. Alone."

She looked up at the captain in surprise. She couldn't remember the last time he had asked to speak to her alone. Athos, Aramis and Porthos obviously couldn't either, as they were all gaping at the captain in astonishment, and some confusion.

Without saying anything to them she stepped away from Athos and moved towards the steps, her heart now beating again but banging loudly against her ribs as she tried to swallow the sudden fear that Treville had somehow found out the truth. They would all hate her for the liar she was. Athos would hate her.

Moments later she entered the captain's office, through the door that he held open and closed firmly behind her.

"Sit down please."

Oh my. This was serious. She had never seen the captain looking quite like this. With a nod and a quiet 'sir' she did as he asked. She heard him sigh as he moved round his desk to sit across from her. He stared at her for a few moments, but didn't say anything.

"Is something wrong sir?" This time her voice definitely wobbled.

Treville cleared his throat. "D'Artagnan, there's something you need to know. Well, a few things actually."

Now she was genuinely confused. She waited for him to speak.

"I should have told you the moment you arrived, but I didn't think I needed to then, and I hoped I wouldn't need to later." He stood up from the desk and moved to pace behind it, clearly agitated. Eventually he stopped and looked at her, a strange sadness in his eyes. "When you came to Paris with your father, you were coming here. I knew your father d'Artagnan."

D'Artagnan's eyes widened as she realised what he was saying. If he knew her father, then he could have known that he never had a son, that she...oh shit.

"I know the truth, Charline. I always have."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N Thank you so much for your encouragement folks, I was a little concerned about how the premise would work, but you seem to be enjoying it, so thanks!_

_Thanks especially to __Mazcotmaker, obh614 and Tianne for your very kind and encouraging reviews! I posted this earlier than intended, just for you! ;)_

Chapter 2

Her voice came out in a strangled whisper. "Captain, I'm sorry, I never-" She stopped suddenly as Treville held up a hand.

"You need to understand this d'Artagnan. You were coming here, to me, for this. To stay here under my protection. You were always meant to become Charles d'Artagnan."

"What? I don't understand."

Treville sat back down. "I need to go back to the beginning I think. Your father and fought together for France as young men, many years ago, before you were even born. You know that he was away between the time your older sisters were born and then you?"

D'Artagnan nodded, still confused as to what the hell was going on here.

"Well, at that time he and I spent some years together, fighting in the King's army. We became good friends, and we kept in touch. You must understand that we were like brothers, we fought together as a pair, like your three friends downstairs."

"Then why have I never heard of you before?" Charline realised that she probably sounded impertinent to the captain, but she was aware that by the end of this conversation in all likeliness he wouldn't be her captain anymore. The thought filled her with a strange emptiness.

"I'm afraid that is what brings us to this point. During our time in the army, your father got himself into a little bit of bother with a man who took against him. He felt that our commander favoured your father, as he was also a Gascon man, and that he himself was treated as a lesser being, despite also being from the area. His argument was, of course, flawed, but it is true that the commander favoured your father, but not over everyone. He treated all of his men well, but this man was unruly, prone to violence and a poor soldier."

She sat fascinated, tears filling her eyes as Treville spoke of her father with respect and warmth in his voice. She had never heard anyone speak about him this way before. Life on the farm had been pretty isolated, especially after her mother had died.

"Anyway," the captain continued, magnanimously ignoring the teary state of the young woman in front of him. "There was an incident some time after we all began working together, and it emerged that someone from our company had stolen some food from a couple of farmhouses, and attacked a young woman. Your father had evidence of who it was. When he told our captain what he knew the man was flogged and kicked out of the army. There was no evidence of the attack, and only evidence of him eating the stolen food, so his punishment was taken no further. He swore revenge on your father, threatening to repay him one day."

As the captain finished speaking he gazed at her again for a few moments, sadness in his features as he remembered his friend fondly.

"I'm still not sure what this means for me, Captain."

Treville leaned forward onto the desk, his hands clasped in front of him as he locked eyes with her.

"Your father was bringing you here, with the intention of leaving you in my care, because we believed this man had been looking for him."

"You mean he was coming for us? After all this time?" Her mouth hung open like a fish.

Treville nodded. "For years your father waited on his arrival at the farm, at various points considering taking you and your mother and moving away. But he never told your mother why, not wanting to scare her, and she didn't want to leave the farm. When she died and he was left with you he decided to stay put, thinking that by now the danger was probably gone.

"I wrote to your father just over six months ago, telling him that word had reached me of this man being seen once more, approaching the border of France from Spain, where it seems he had fled to. He was heading for Gascony, so I believed, so I thought it imperative to tell your father that our plan, made years before when you were just a young girl, must be put in motion. He sent me word that you were on your way within the day of receiving my letter."

It was a lot to take in, and Charline knew it was going to take some time to come to terms with every bit of what she had just been told. Currently, there was one question that needed to be answered.

"Is he coming for me, is this why you are telling me this now?" She bowed her head a little, breaking her gaze from the captain's face. She did not wish to see pity in her face, or for him to see the fear in hers.

"I am still unsure of if he knows of your existence, d'Artagnan. But I'm afraid he reached your home last week. The neighbour who was looking after it for you, Bertrand, wrote to me and told me men had been seen going to the farm, but no one answered their questions. We must be vigilant from here on d'Artagnan, which is why I am telling you now."

Her heart was in her throat. "Bertrand, is he alright? His family?" She gripped the arms of her chair tightly as she thought of the caring man or one of his sons being hurt by this man looking for her father.

The captain held up his hands to calm her. "He is fine d'Artagnan. They were working their own land at the time, nowhere near the house. But there is something I must tell you." He sighed audibly.

The grip on the arms of the chair tightened even further as she waited for the impact of what he was going to say.

"The farm, d'Artagnan. It's gone." The captain's eyes were full of pity when hers snapped back up to meet his in shock. "Labarge and his men burned it to the ground."

She quickly swallowed the gasped sob that welled up in her throat as a sharp knock was rapped on the door. She heard it open and recognised instantly the tread of Athos as he stepped into the room.

"Apologies Captain, but we must continue with our investigation."

Charline pleaded silently with the captain, refusing to turn to look at the musketeer behind her. Please don't let them see me like this.

"Then you will go without d'Artagnan."

"But captain, I-"

"I said he stays here, Athos. Please leave us."

The door closed again behind her as Athos left, and the captain shook his head after him. "He would never have burst into my office without waiting for a command before you appeared d'Artagnan. Never."

She didn't really know what to say to that, until a thought suddenly struck her. "Wait, sir, you said 'he' stays here, not 'she'. Do you mean that, that they don't know the truth?" She gaped at him, sure that Treville would have shared the secret with his most trusted men. Surely this was the reason they had taken her under their wing.

"I have told no one, d'Artagnan. I had no need to. I knew who you were as soon as you arrived of course, but when I heard my musketeers talking about this cocky young whelp turning up and challenging Athos to a duel, I knew that you would play your part well. Your father worked hard training you for this, just in case. Everything he taught you to do, he taught you to do it like a man. Besides, if Athos hasn't worked it out, then no one will."

She didn't really know what to feel about this. On one hand she was pleased that she had fooled everyone so well that she hadn't even been instructed to do so. On the other she was dismayed that her friends still did not know that she was a liar, and at some point she was going to have to witness that discovery.

Suddenly, she sat up straight in her chair. "Are you going to tell them? Do I have to leave? Do I have to be myself again?" The panic was clear in her voice.

"D'Artagnan, as I have explained to you this was always the plan. You will stay here, as Charles D'Artagnan, until we find out where Labarge is and have him dealt with. As for your friends, they have a right to know what could be coming."

"But, they will hate me." Her whispered voice was brimming with emotion, bringing a blush to her cheeks as she realised that she had never sounded like such a girl in the last six months. So much for maintain the persona of Charles.

"They may treat you differently, Charline, but I do not think they will hate you. They already care for you too much for that. But they must be told, as the men who are closest to you."

She nodded miserably before putting her face in her hands and taking several deep breaths as she tried to calm down. She heard footsteps then a hand squeezed her shoulder gently.

"Do you want me to tell them?"

She lifted her head to look at the captain, now standing beside her, concern in his eyes.

"Can I, can I think about that?"

Her shoulder was squeezed once again. "Alright. But you must tell me tomorrow. Putting it off won't make it any easier. For now I will tell them when they return that you have had some bad news from home, that I have sent you home and that you are not to be disturbed until tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"Now, go home." The captain moved away from her and she nodded to him, wiping her face a few times with her fists before squaring her shoulders and heading towards the door. "D'Artagnan?" She stopped and turned back.

"Captain?"

"In my experience women deal better with things when they talk about them. Madame Bonacieux is a very trustworthy woman, and already a good friend to you. "

D'Artagnan nodded in agreement. "Captain." With a nod she was out the door, pulling it shut behind her and her hat pulled down over her face. Thankfully the yard was empty as she strode through it out into the street, making her way quickly through the side streets to the Bonacieux residence.

Perhaps a friend to confide in was something she needed. But would Constance understand the lies, or would she be the first to turn away from her?

_A/N This chapter fills things in a bit for Charline, and for us! I should have the next chapter up very soon. Thanks again for reading! ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N Thank you so much for all your encouragement, via follows, favourites, and reviews! I really do appreciate it all. __NavigatorNami85, Define Incompetent and Awesome-Sauce-Eater, thank you for your reviews of Chapter 2. It's always useful to know what people think. To answer your question __**Define Incompetent**__, I am planning to take it through to the end of the series or thereabouts. That's as far as I've got for the moment. _

_I'm continuing to deviate a little from the plot of the series here, as you will see. Hopefully it all makes sense!_

_Thanks for reading,_

_Banana xx_

**Chapter 3**

Constance was in the kitchen when Charline arrived home, but quickly emerged wiping her hands on a cloth, obviously surprised to see her back at this time of day. She took one look at the miserable face in front of her and swept her lodger into the kitchen, sat her down at the table and put a cup of wine in front of her.

"Drink that, then tell me what on earth is the matter." As usual, when Constance gave an order it was obeyed, and d'Artagnan found herself with wine in hand, draining the warm liquid in two quick gulps. When she placed the empty vessel back on the table Constance was standing across from her, looking at her expectantly.

"Well? Is this about that girl that was killed this morning? I heard about that, horrible business. My neighbour knew her, I think you spoke to her about it afterwards." The eyebrows were raised in that way that always made d'Artagnan squirm, and always managed to get the truth out of her.

She sighed, and shook her head. She was a little ashamed at how little thought she'd had for the poor girl since this morning. "It's not that. It's a long story Constance."

"It's just as well I've got time then, isn't it? Bonacieux won't be home until tomorrow, so I can stay here all night if I have to." Now the hands were on the hips. Uh oh.

D'Artagnan rolled her eyes at Constance's usual obstinacy, but found herself feeling comforted by the genuine concern she could see in her friend's eyes. This was going to be difficult, but she owed it to Constance to tell her the truth, after everything she had done for her. If it wasn't for Constance she may not have somewhere to live, hell if it wasn't for Constance they may never have proved Athos' innocence all those months ago, and her father's death may not have been revenged.

Charline reached to her neck and grasped the small chain that hung there, a nondescript piece of jewellery that had belonged to her mother. Her talisman of courage. She took a deep breath, bowed her head, then let the whole thing out in a desperate rush.

"I lied to you Constance, I'm truly sorry. I'm not even who I say I am, I've lied to everyone. When I came here my father made me disguise myself, and I became Charles d'Artagnan. Honestly, I am Charline, the youngest daughter of Alexandre d'Artagnan, not his son. I never knew the truth of why until today, but after he was murdered on our journey it seemed safer to keep up the facade, and then they let me stay with the musketeers, and then it went on so long that I didn't know what to do. I've felt so guilty all this time about lying to my friends, including you, and I am truly, truly sorry. I will understand if you hate me, but I felt like I needed to tell you. I owe that to you, at least."

Silence stretched on for a few moments after she had rushed out her apology, and eventually d'Artagnan had to lift her head and look at Constance, bracing herself for the anger and derision she expected to see. What she didn't expect to see was the woman smiling at her warmly, a look of quiet contemplation on her face.

Puzzled, d'Artagnan sat straight up, her confusion etched clearly on her features.

"Charline? That's nice. I've been wondering what you're real name was."

D'Artganan's brain turned into a black hole of nothingness for a few moments, before she shook it off and gaped at Constance.

"You what?! You knew, this whole time? But why... Oh my god. I'm so embarrassed." A flush crept over her and she covered her face with her hands as she contemplated the fact that she had spent the last six months trying to act like a man, and Constance had seen right through her.

Constance laughed gently as she sat at the table next to d'Artagnan and pulled the hands away from her. "I knew pretty quickly, yes. You're good, really good actually, but there were a few tiny things that gave you away." D'Artagnan groaned, but Constance's smile just grew wider. "Firstly there was your reluctance to kiss me."

"What? But I-"

"The first time we met d'Artagnan, you needed to hide out in the market, do you remember? Well you hid by grabbing me and kissing me, but you didn't really kiss me at all, did you? You missed my mouth completely and used your hat to hide us."

D'Artagnan blushed a little as she remembered. Desperation had led to her grabbing Constance, but she couldn't have really kissed her. "I hoped you would put that down to chivalry," she admitted.

"I did, for a while. But you were a 20-year-old boy, not taking the chance to kiss an attractive young woman? Doubtful." She grinned at her.

"I'm 25."

"What? You said you were twenty!"

"It explained the lack of beard didn't it?" She found herself grinning back at Constance.

"I suppose. But then there were a few other things, like you always having your door locked, even when you went to just change your shirt." Constance's face grew serious. "You also sound like a girl when you're having nightmares, which you did for a while after you moved in."

D'Artagnan nodded. "My father." She didn't add that those nightmares had turned into not being on time to save Athos after the fire. How on earth had she not seen then that she was in love with him? Inwardly, she rolled her eyes at her own denseness.

"I don't hate you d'Artagnan. I always figured there was a good reason you were hiding who you were, and I hoped you would tell me eventually. I'm glad you have."

The warm smile that was sent to Charline was returned with a beaming grin of relief. She had a friend, some support, and someone who knew the truth.

Cold dread suddenly made her shiver.

"Wait, you don't think that the others-"

Constance snorted. "They haven't noticed anything d'Artagnan. They're men! Not even Aramis and his ability to spot a woman at one thousand paces would see through your disguise. You've done it brilliantly, honestly."

"My father, he prepared me well for this."

"What do you mean?"

D'Artagnan explained the events of her day to a very sympathetic Constance, filling her in on Treville's place in the plan, on the history with her father and this thug, Labarge. From there they moved on to discussing d'Artagnan's childhood in Gascony, the thrill of learning to shoot and fight like a man. They talked for a long time, and by the end of it d'Artagnan found herself promising to teach Constance to defend herself using her body, to go along with the shooting and fencing lessons they had already begun.

"So what now?"

"Now I have to decide whether I tell Athos, Porthos and Aramis the truth myself, or let Treville do it for me tomorrow."

"What are you thinking?"

D'Artagnan sighed. "I think I should do them the honour of admitting my lie to them face to face, but I don't know if I can take looking at their faces as they realise the truth, as their feelings towards me change and they turn away."

"They might surprise you. They do care about you a lot you know."

She nodded glumly. "I know. I'll think about it, and let the captain know in the morning."

Constance reached over and squeezed her hand, before returning to the food she had been preparing hours earlier and resumed cooking them a meal. D'Artagnan stood and moved beside her, leaning against the dresser next to her.

"Where do they think you are just now?"

"They left to continue an investigation. Treville is going to tell them about the farm when they get back, tell them to leave me until morning so I have time to think."

Constance stopped chopping vegetables and glanced sideways at d'Artagnan. "Do you really think they won't come looking for you when they hear about the farm?"

D'Artagnan's eyes widened as she realised Constance was right. There's no way her friends would leave her alone to wallow, they'd be here to drag him to a tavern in no time. "Constance, you have to help me if they do turn up, I-"

She was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. At the panicked look on her face, Constance gently pushed her back towards the chair she had been in before, placing the bottle of wine in front of her, and went to answer the door.

"Madame Bonacieux. We are here to see our young friend, if you don't mind." Aramis' smooth voice carried into the kitchen from the hall outside. Charline couldn't help smiling as she heard Constance's response.

"He's in there. He's had a bad day, mind, so you watch yourself. I don't want you, or you, making him any worse than he is."

Just two of them then. She wondered who hadn't come.

She didn't look up as the footsteps entered the room, just pulled some cups from the cabinet beside her and began filling them with wine. A heavy hand clapped onto her shoulder. Must be Porthos.

"D'Artagnan? Treville told us." Panic seized her once again for a moment, before she realised he just meant about the farm. "Are you alright?"

She looked up as both Porthos and Aramis slid into seats at the table, Constance taking her place by her cooking once again.

"Not really, no." She tried to keep her voice in its usual low cadence, which was more difficult when she was so emotional, but she just about managed. "But I will be, I guess."

"Treville said it was arson. We'll find out who it was and tear them to pieces lad, don't worry."

"And you get to tear the first chunk off, of course." Aramis - ever a campaigner of fairness.

D'Artagnan smiled at her friends, unendingly grateful for the support these men had offered her without question for the last six months. "Thank you." She straightened her shoulders and gave them Charles d'Artagnan's cocky grin. "I think I'll require the first few chunks though, if you don't mind."

Porthos grinned at her, while Aramis bowed in mock-reverence. "Whatever you wish master, whatever you wish."

A plate of cold food was suddenly placed in front of each of them, which they thanked her for and tucked into eagerly. Constance stood at the side of the table with her hands once more on her hips. "There's usually three of you haunting my home. Where's Athos?"

Porthos and Aramis grinned at each other. "He is enjoying someone else's company this evening Madame, sharing dinner with Ninon de Larroque according to what we eventually got out of him." Aramis grinned lewdly as he spoke, earning a cuff round the ear from Constance.

D'Artagnan forced a laugh, but it sounded weak to even her ears. "So much for her not liking him Aramis."

Everyone's eyes turned to her instantly, then Porthos' hand was once more on her shoulder. He was going to break it one of these days. "He wasn't with us when Treville told us. He'd be here if he knew, lad, have no doubts about that."

D'Artagnan nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

For a few minutes they sat quietly, Aramis and Porthos finishing their meals with gusto while d'Artagnan dealt with her suddenly breaking heart. She was aware of Constance's eyes firmly on her face, until Aramis finished his meal and stood. With a grand sweeping of his hat he bowed to Constance, kissing her hand. "Many thanks Madame for your generosity, always a beacon of light in the darkness of this city."

Constance raised an eyebrow at him dismissively, but there was a faint blush to her cheeks as she pulled her hand away. "Get away with you Aramis, and you Porthos. I've got things to do and I don't need you cluttering up my kitchen."

The big musketeer pulled himself to his feet, also bowing his thanks to their impromptu hostess, before turning to d'Artagnan. "We're going to keep an eye out at Ninon's place. You coming?"

"Not tonight, Porthos." She couldn't think of anything worse than sitting outside a building on watch while Athos was inside with that woman. "I have to write some letters, to my neighbour and sisters."

Porthos gazed at her for a long moment before nodding. With a quick goodnight he and Aramis left, clearly satisfied for now that d'Artagnan would be ok for the time being.

Charline finished her meal quietly, aware of Constance bringing her own meal to the table and sitting across from her. D'Artagnan had finished her meal and pushed the plate away from her before Constance spoke.

"Are we going to talk about that too?"

"What?" D'Artagnan had a horrible feeling she knew what was coming.

Constance's voice was deliberately casual. "Oh, nothing really. Just the fact that you are clearly in love with the musketeer we know as Athos."

D'Artagnan missed the grin that spread over Constance's face. She was too busy groaning and dropping her own head onto the table with a thump.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N Thank you again for all your encouragement! __Merlynna, obh614 and Define Incompetent, thanks for your reviews! Much appreciated._

_Time to tell! _

**Chapter 4**

D'Artagnan was grumbling to herself as she made her way to the barracks early the next morning, a good distraction from what was ahead of her.

She was half convinced that Constance had some kind of supernatural powers. Not only had she discovered her (as she had thought) secret feelings for Athos, she'd also managed to get her to spill all the details of them to her, with very little persuasion. How could Constance read her so easily? It was infuriating, and a little unsettling. Even after the truth was out she needed desperately to keep the truth of her feelings from Athos, and that wouldn't happen if she could be read so easily.

There was no way that she was going to tell him the truth and he was going to respond by dropping to one knee and declaring his love for her. She smiled sadly as she pictured the stoic man on his knees, heart on his sleeve and tears in his eyes as he begged her to love him. Not going to happen. He wouldn't be Athos if he did such things anyway.

He had been more open with her for a while now, gradually building since he told her the truth about his lost love, about the woman who had tried to burn him alive in that soulless house. He had made it clear to her that he was done with women, with love and marriage, so she had no hopes at all.

She tried not to think of Ninon de Larroque.

She couldn't imagine how he was going to feel or react when he realised that he had finally revealed his secret, finally shown some vulnerability, to a woman.

It was this reason, and not because she couldn't face him yet (honestly) that she was going to tackle today in the way she had decided after hours of sleepless deliberation.

She was going to do the right thing and tell them herself. She just wasn't going to tell them all at the same time.

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By the time she left her meeting with Treville, explaining what her plan was and begging for time to tell them, the three inseparables were already sitting at their usual place in the yard, a space left for d'Artagnan as usual. They were deep in conversation, both Porthos and Aramis talking animatedly to Athos, who looked like he wasn't being persuaded to agree with them.

Taking a deep breath she started down the steps, nearly at the bottom before they noticed her presence. Athos was immediately on his feet and making his way over to her. He grasped her warmly by both shoulders, looking at her with concern.

"Aramis and Porthos told me. I apologise for not being there for you d'Artagnan. Are you alright?"

She shrugged, no mean feat when your shoulders are being tightly held, and nodded at him. She tried not to think about where he had been instead. He looked slightly doubtful at her weak smile, but he stepped back and let her go, walking quietly beside her as they made their way over to the others. She slid into her usual seat, nodding a greeting at Porthos and Aramis, who were also looking at her with the same concern on their faces.

She rolled her eyes at them. "I'm fine guys, really. At the end of the day it was just a farm right? I didn't even live there anymore! No one was hurt, and that's the main thing."

"What about the money? Don't you need that to live here?"

"The captain is sorting something for me, and Constance is going to let me live there for free until it's done."

"Oh yeah?" Aramis grinned at him. "Does Monsieur Bonacieux know about this little, ah, arrangement between you and his wife?"

Charline blushed to the roots of her hair, as she always did whenever Aramis teased her about Constance. Well that was something that would stop soon.

"It will be fine."

"Now that's what I call a noncommittal answer, what do you think Porthos?" Aramis nudged the taller man beside him.

"I think you might be right Aramis. If the boy wants to make himself an arrangement with the lovely Madame Bonacieux who are we to stop him, eh?"

They were both grinning at her now, Aramis sending exaggerated winks her way, making her laugh. Even Athos chuckled beside her at the ridiculous look on the man's face.

Before they could tease her anymore, Captain Treville called over to them as he made his way down the stairs, his intention clear to d'Artagnan immediately.

"Athos, Aramis, it's time to go. Porthos, I need you with d'Artagnan today at the palace. Take this and deliver it to the king." He handed a scroll over to Porthos.

Charline looked inquisitively at Athos and Aramis as they both stood to join the captain. Neither of them answered the obvious questions on her face, just intimated they would see her and Porthos later and left the yard. She turned to Porthos instead.

"Where are they going?" She stood and climbed out of her seat, joining Porthos as he started towards the stables.

"Court. Ninon was arrested last night. They're going to ensure fair play."

"Oh. Arrested for what?"

"Witchcraft."

"Oh wow. That's not good."

Porthos chuckled. "It's not the best, no."

She smiled wryly. "Sorry, I'm a bit distracted today."

A shrug. "No worries. You're allowed to be."

D'Artagnan said nothing more as they mounted and rode out, heading towards the Palace. They had a good hour of riding to do, which should be ample time to speak to Porthos. Obviously this had been the captain's plan. So much for in her own time. She sighed. Porthos glanced at her, but she just shook her head.

They rode side by side for almost ten minutes, leaving the built up area of the city behind them, before Porthos reined his horse in and waited. D'Artagnan carried on for several more paces before she realised she had left her companion behind. As she turned her horse and walked it back to meet him she wondered how long she had been in her own world, ignoring any attempts at conversation that Porthos was bound to have made.

"There's something else," he said bluntly.

"What do you mean?" Why was she stalling? _Just tell him!_

"There's something else bothering you. You were honest when you said you were alright about the farm this morning, but there's more going on than just that. I can see it."

She had forgotten how good Porthos was at seeing people, really seeing them. He was always the first to know when something was bothering Aramis and Athos. After the death of Marsac it was Porthos who had seen through Aramis' mask and confronted him about it. He had seen how lost Aramis was after that business with the baby last month, had spoken to him about his wishes for a family, a future. Athos was a different story, but Porthos had clearly noticed that he was confiding in d'Artagnan a little more, as he kept dropping hints to her that if the burden was too much he would be there.

The best big brother a girl could hope for. Of course he was going to realise that something was wrong.

"Can we, can we talk somewhere else?" She gestured at the horses they were still astride, and the public road that they were riding along.

Without a word Porthos dismounted and led his horse off the road and into the trees at the side. Grateful, she did the same and followed him as he made his way into the woods. After a few minutes of walking, he paused and tied his horse to a tree, moving a few paces away and sitting casually against another. With shaking hands, D'Artagnan followed his lead and tied her horse up, before sitting next to a tree beside Porthos'. He just looked at her patiently, waiting for her to begin.

There was no turning back now.

She took a deep breath and spoke. "I've been lying to you, to all of you, but now I have to tell you the truth." She glanced at Porthos who was just watching her calmly, nothing to be read in his face other than concern. "I'm not who I told you I was, I had to pretend when I got here and it all just got a little out of control."

"What do you mean you had to pretend? Who are you then?" Porthos just sounded confused, rather than angry. Okay, so this was a fairly promising start, but now for the big stuff.

She felt tears build in her eyes as she prepared to speak. Damn her for being so girly at a moment like this, she needed to convince him she was the same person he had always believed her to be. But she was scared.

"I am still d'Artagnan, and my father was Alexandre d'Artagnan, as I told you. But I, well I am not Charles."

"I'm really not getting this lad, who are you then? Jacques? Henri? Louis?" He sounded almost amused.

"Charline."

Porthos laughed, loudly, but stopped abruptly when he looked at her and realised that she was telling the truth, apparently seeing that her fear was clear on her face.

"You mean you're a _girl_?!" His mouth dropped open.

She nodded, willing the tears not to fall, and desperately searched his face for any sign of the hatred that she was waiting for.

"I'm sorry."

"Well, if that isn't a turn up for the books." Porthos looked completely taken aback. Well at least someone hadn't seen through her. "Why? I don't understand this d'Artagnan."

"I had to when I came here looking for Athos, you would never have take me seriously if I arrived as a girl, would you?" He had to agree with that. "I was already disguised anyway, trained by my father to act like a boy for reasons I didn't understand until yesterday."

"Well he did a bloody good job! My God. Don't I feel like an idiot! How could I not notice you were a girl?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you all, but I just felt so, happy I suppose, to be part of it all that I didn't want it to stop."

"Wait a second, what reasons? Why did your father disguise you?"

Briefly, she filled him in on her conversation with the captain the day before. To her surprise Porthos just listened carefully, then nodded as she finished.

"Well I can see the reasons for it I suppose. And we have to go along with the pretence of d'Artagnan the musketeer trainee for now?"

She nodded eagerly. "Absolutely."

Porthos grinned at her. "You're rather enjoying it aren't you?"

"I have loved almost every minute of the last six months Porthos. In all honesty, I feel alive. I want to go on feeling it for as long as possible." She grinned back at him, realising that her watery eyes had dried up. She should've known that Porthos would take it all in his stride. It was who he was. She could've told him she was the King in disguise and he would've found a way to understand.

He grew serious. "You could get in real trouble though, a female impersonating a soldier."

"I know. We need to think about that. Once I've told the others."

Porthos looked surprised. "You mean I'm the first? I would have thought-" He stopped.

"Would've thought what?"

"Athos." He shrugged, then grinned when he saw her shake her head vigorously. "Ah I see. A little worried about telling our resident grump? Well fair enough. Aramis next then. Soon I hope?"

"I've got to tell all of you today. The captain said. I told him I wanted to do it one by one, so he arranged this little mission for us I think."

"Hmmm, figures."

"What do you mean?"

"It makes sense that I'd be first. Know all about keeping secrets, don't I?"

Now she was confused. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't exactly tell the truth about where I came from when I first joined up."

"He's quite clever that captain of ours." D'Artagnan grinned at Porthos, relieved to get one returned.

"He's not bad, he's not bad."

They sat there for a few minutes more, neither speaking, and both deep in thought. D'Artagnan had only just realised how hard her heart had been beating the entire time, as it now slowly settled back down to a normal rate. The captain really was smart. Porthos should have been her obvious choice to confide in first, but she still couldn't believe how well he had taken it. Sure he was confused, but he didn't seem hurt by her lies, or angry at her and inclined to dismiss her entirely.

Eventually Porthos pulled himself to his feet. He walked over to her and offered his hand to pull her up. She hesitated, until he rolled his eyes, reminding her that he would have done the same for her when he thought she was boy. Sheepishly, she smiled at him and took the hand offered to her. He did surprise her, however, when he pulled her into a tight hug. She froze for a moment but quickly relaxed into his comforting grip, wrapping her arms round him and returning the gesture.

"It'll be ok d'Artagnan. You'll see."

"Thanks Porthos."

They pulled away from each other and moved back to their horses.

"Come on, we better get to the palace. We'll need to get back so you can tell Aramis and Athos."

She nodded, her face whitening considerably as she thought about doing this twice again. They untied the animals and she saw Porthos hesitate as she went to mount.

"I'm still d'Artagnan Porthos, still as capable of doing everything that I could do ten minutes ago."

He just nodded at her then mounted his own horse with a smile, watching as she did the same. She snorted when he commented. "Very manly."

"I've just realised something." Porthos said after they had been riding towards the palace again for a few minutes. "That's why you never took your shirt off when we sparred, no matter how sweaty you got." He grinned at her blush and shook his head. "You need to get ready for it d'Art, Aramis is going to be much worse than me when you tell him." He laughed as she paled even further. He was absolutely right. Aramis was going to make her life hell until the truth was fully out.

"Thanks for that." She groaned.

They rode for a few minutes further.

"Porthos?" He looked over at her and she smiled shyly at him. "Thanks for still being my big brother."

Porthos' voice was soft as he answered her. "Always kid. Always."

_A/N Hopefully this worked for you all! Aramis is next, and might not be quite as easy. _


	5. Chapter 5

Their business took them most of the day, and the sun was journeying back down towards the horizon when they arrived back in Paris. D'Artagnan was starting to wonder how she was going to manage to get some time alone with Aramis and Athos before the end of the day.

The yard was buzzing with chatting musketeers when they arrived back, with Athos and Aramis nowhere to be seen. Porthos handed his reins to d'Artagnan, leaving her to take the horses to the stable and went to ask one of the groups of conversing men where he could find their friends.

Voices noticeably quietened to whispers as d'Artagnan went past. A frown cut a divide between her eyes as she approached a pair of eager stable boys, handing over the horses with barely a glance as she tried to work out what was going on around her, and why she had the unmistakable feeling that she wasn't going to like it.

Exiting the stables, she spotted Porthos standing at the bottom of the stairs, talking to Aramis who had obviously just come down them. The constant buzz in the yard had dulled, and the musketeers had scattered a little, vaguely doing some duties and looking busy, all avoiding the glares that d'Artagnan could see Aramis shooting at them throughout his conversation with Porthos. Now more than a little concerned, she approached the pair of them.

"I've never seen him like that Porthos," Aramis was saying, his voice aching with concern. "And we've seen him in some pretty bad ways."

"Shit. Did he explain anything?"

Aramis just shook his head.

"What happened?" She couldn't help herself. Something had happened with Athos, and she needed to know what it was.

Aramis laughed gently. "Which part?"

She shot a confused look at Porthos, who took pity on her and answered with the words Aramis had seemingly just said to him. "The cardinal was poisoned during the trial, but not before Athos reacted badly to one of the witnesses, shouting in the court that she was a liar and an imposter, or something. It didn't go well lad."

She almost smiled as he used the familiar term for her, before she caught on to what Porthos had actually said. "She?"

Aramis shrugged. "Some woman, can't remember the name she gave, but she stood up and said that Ninon was guilty, which seemed to shock the Madame somewhat. And Athos."

"And he said nothing about who this woman was, to you or the captain?"

Aramis shook his head. "He wouldn't say anything. If I hadn't seen his face for myself I would've thought he was just protesting to someone saying that the accusations were true." So that explained the air of rumour in the yard, and the suppressed voices as d'Artagnan passed. She had a reputation for being a bit of a hot head, especially when her friends were called into question. Aramis continued. "We had to haul him away, he was shocked I think. He almost looked distraught to be honest, but I cannot even give you the hint of a reason why."

D'Artagnan had a horrible feeling that she knew why. "Where is he?"

"With Madame de Larroque."

"Oh." There it was; that little sliver of pain that signified a heart about to break.

"I think I've missed something in here Aramis. You said she was sentenced to death."

Aramis grinned. "Ah yes, but that was before we saved the Cardinal and found his softer side."

"He let her go?" Porthos sounded incredulous, but d'Artagnan didn't have the energy for it. Ninon was free, and Athos was with her.

"After we found the poisoner, yes. And with a few conditions, one being that she leaves Paris and never returns. Athos is seeing her off." Aramis gave his favourite lewd grin. "That should distract him from whatever upset him, for a while at least."

D'Artagnan laughed weakly along with Porthos' warm chuckle. As relieved as she may be that Ninon was leaving, she wasn't entirely happy that he felt the need to go and say goodbye to her. She couldn't cope with him mooning over her after she left. Plus she was still worried about this mysterious woman, and this strange effect she'd had on him.

"Never mind d'Art," Aramis threw his arm round her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Next time you'll get the girl, next time. Whatever would Madame Bonacieux say anyway?"

She reached up and pushed his hand off, rolling her eyes at him. "Maybe I'm just annoyed that we missed the whole thing while at the palace." Her hands wanted to go to her hips, as they always did when she was indignant about something, but as usual she forced her arms into the more manly stance of being crossed over her chest, her chin lifted in defiance as she glared at Aramis.

She didn't miss the look of approval that Porthos gave her.

"Whatever you say lad, whatever you say. Well, it's been a long day, drinks anyone?"

"You two go ahead. I need to speak to the captain. I'll catch up." Porthos practically pushed the two of them towards the gate.

"We can wait." D'Artagnan stopped, a sudden wave of fear crashing over her as she recognised an attempt from Porthos to give her time to speak to Aramis.

"Come on lad, once Porthos gets talking there's no stopping him; we'd be as well going on ahead." Aramis put his arm across her shoulders again and started leading her out into the street. She went quietly, assuming that Aramis must be fairly desperate for a drink if he was describing Porthos as 'chatty' to get her going.

She looked over her shoulder to where Porthos was watching them leave, giving him a look of panic. He gave her an encouraging smile and nod, before calling to them that he wouldn't be long. An extra reassurance for her that he wasn't going to leave her to the mercy of Aramis for too long.

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Half an hour later, d'Artagnan sat staring in panic at Aramis as he stared back at her in silence. Their wine sat in front of them, her cup empty and his untouched. She had drained hers instantly when it was set before her and launched straight into her story, a moment seized before her courage disappeared.

She was struggling to read Aramis. He was usually so open, never guarded in his thoughts or his feelings, but she was getting nothing from him. This couldn't be good.

"Please, say something. Say anything!"

When he spoke his voice was quiet, and angry. "How long have you been here? Six months?"

She nodded, a sense of misery settling on her as she watched his still blank face. She was surprised at the tone of his voice, but soon began to suspect that his main feeling was one of hurt.

"That's a long time to tell a lie, isn't it." It wasn't a question, but it confirmed her suspicions.

"It is, I know that. I'm truly sorry Aramis, honestly. I had to."

"No you didn't, you chose to."

The hint of accusation in his tone was enough to replace her misery with the beginnings of anger. That famous Gascon temper. Great.

"You know you would never have taken me seriously as myself, never."

"Not to fight with, no, but we would still have listened to you d'Artagnan!" His face showed emotion for the first time as he looked a little insulted.

"I know that. You are good people, you are. I would trust any of you with my life, and I have done on many occasions. All I am asking is that you trust me, you trust that this was the only way I thought I had to get to Athos, and then to stay. What else would you have had me do? I had nothing, nowhere to go. When you asked me to stay, I decided then that I needed to keep up the pretense."

"If we had known-"

"But you didn't, did you? You didn't know because I am good! I am a good fighter, I ride as well as any of you, and I play my part well. Hell, if anyone in the world was going to know I was a woman it should've been you! In fact, I'm a little bit insulted that you didn't notice!" She folded her arms firmly, glaring at him across the table.

Her eyes narrowed further when he burst out laughing at her outburst. "You definitely weren't pretending to have that temper, anyway."

She blushed, but remained in her confrontational stance. "Porthos doesn't have such a problem with it."

"Porthos is different."

"How exactly? He's a musketeer, he's a man, he's my friend, as I thought you were. If he can accept that I am a woman, then why can't you?"

"Because it's dangerous!" He practically hissed at her.

"But I can-"

"I know what you can do d'Artagnan, I have seen it. I mean what happens if you get found out?"

"I don't know! Why should it suddenly happen though? Like you said, I've been lying for six months. Unless you think you're not up to lying with me?"

She blushed fiercely when he raised an eyebrow at her words. "Shut up!" She snapped.

He looked at her curiously for a few moments, then leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "It's not going to be easy. For any of us."

"I know that. And I'm sorry."

He sighed. "You could have told us sooner, rather than wait for this Labarge character to make himself known."

"I didn't know anything about him. I would've kept lying for as long as I could have gotten away with it, and I would have hated myself for it every day." She smiled weakly at him. "Besides, who would want to deal with this lovely conversation before they had to?"

"I'm not trying to make it difficult for you, you know. It's just, complicated." He held out his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

"I'm still me." She was determined he would understand that.

"You're still stubborn, and hot tempered, and still good with a sword, yes."

"Then, just treat me as me. Porthos has managed all day."

"Like I said, it's different for him." Aramis shrugged and drank his wine in one long gulp, before reaching for the bottle to fill both cups.

"I don't understand."

"Life was different for Porthos for a long time. In the Court of Miracles, well, it's not unusual for women to fight like you do, to be treated the same as the men."

"They don't fight quite like I do."

He rolled his eyes at her. "No, obviously none of them can match the great d'Artagnan with a sword. Happy?"

She nodded stubbornly, smiling at him a little. He just shook his head and chuckled.

"I'm just saying that it's going to be difficult to forget that you're a woman. It's my natural instinct to treat women differently, to protect them." He winked at her when she snorted. "Okay, so it's not my only instinct. Just... be patient alright? You need to keep that temper of yours in check."

She grinned at him, that full, sunny grin that was pure d'Artagnan. "You mean I'm forgiven?"

"Let's just say, it's just as well that I care about you the way that I do. But don't lie to me again, alright?"

She nodded. Aramis had a real thing about honesty, but thankfully he also had a real thing about forgiving. He lifted his wine and held it out to her, encouraging her to raise her own. He tapped their cups together before smiling at her and taking a drink. She followed suit.

"So, I take it you haven't told Athos yet?"

"No."

"Well, good luck with that one." He gestured another toast to her.

"Thanks."

They drank in companionable silence for a few moments, although she could see the wheels still turning frantically in Aramis' head.

"Wait a second, does this mean that Madame Bonacieux is just a lonely, bored housewife? Good to know." He winked at her again and she shook her head at him firmly.

"Not a chance Aramis. She knows you too well."

"You never know, d'Art, you never know."

She opened her mouth to warn him off her friend, but was interrupted by Porthos' slightly frantic arrival at their table.

"Come on, we need to go." He was out of breath and looked disturbed. The other two both stood, quickly checking their weapons and placing hats firmly on their heads.

"What's happened?" Aramis was clearly concerned by the look on Porthos' face. "Is it Athos?"

Charline felt her stomach swoop in panic.

"No, he's not back yet. We need to go to the barracks, now." He walked away from the table, leading both of them outside into the rapidly fading sunlight.

"What's happened?" Excitement was starting to build a little within her. If Athos was okay, then this could be their next adventure they were being called to. She lived for this.

Porthos quickly doused the feeling with a cold shower as he glanced at her. "A note arrived to Treville when I was about to leave. It's Lebarge. He's been arrested, and he's on his way to Paris."

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Charline's ears were buzzing as she stood in front of Treville's desk with the others. She couldn't concentrate on the loud discussion that was going on around her. Her brain had switched into automatic mode as soon as Porthos had uttered the name Labarge, and she couldn't even remember the journey back to the barracks.

This was all happening way too fast. She needed time, they all needed time, to get used to the way things were going to be. She was under no illusion that nothing was going to be different, but she had been praying that there would be time for them to find their new version of normal before the threat of Labarge reared its ugly head.

Apparently not. Perhaps this was her punishment for lying to her friends, to her family.

"Are you alright, uh, Charline?" Aramis' question cut right through her dulled brain. Like lightning, her gaze turned to Aramis, causing him to actually step back with his hands held up in defence at the acidic glare she levelled at him. "Sorry, sorry."

"We just had a conversation about this." The words were spat out between gritted teeth.

"I know, sorry. I told you it was going to take some time though.

"D'Artagnan. The same as before."

"Aramis, stop it!" Porthos put his arm across the other musketeer's chest and pushed him back gently.

"It worked though, didn't it?" Aramis huffed.

She looked at Porthos, confused. "You weren't listening to us, so obviously Aramis thought annoying you would be the best way to bring you back.

Aramis muttered behind him. "She said to treat her like before. I always annoy her to get her attention."

She had to agree. "Sorry."

"Are you done?"

The three of them turned sheepishly to face the captain, speaking as one. "Sir."

He sighed. Having children had never been as difficult as dealing with this lot. "Right. So tomorrow we need to bring Labarge into the city, and I think the safest thing to do is send you two and Athos."

"What about me sir?"

The two musketeers at her side spluttered their denials.

"I thought the plan was to keep going as we were? Won't the men find it odd if I suddenly don't go with you?" She was frustrated already. The first sign of trouble and they were trying to protect her, treating her differently than they would have before.

"D'Artagnan," the captain spoke up. The voice of reason as always. "This is about keeping you away from Labarge until we know if he is aware of your existence or not, nothing else."

"For you maybe." Aramis muttered quietly, obviously still having trouble with the thought of sending a young woman into danger.

She rounded on him immediately, letting her frustration at the whole situation manifest itself in an argument with him. "I told you earlier, I am still the same person! You cannot suddenly now act like I am in any more danger than before!"

"And I told you it would take time, and that you _are _in more danger!" He was shouting back at her. "If anyone finds out that you are a woman, d'Artagnan, there is going to be hell to pay!"

In the silence after their brief shouting match, in which both stood breathing heavily and glaring at each other, there was a slow creak as the door to the office was pushed open from outside. In horror, all four of them turned and stared as it gradually opened to reveal the figure standing in the doorway.

She wasn't sure if anyone else felt a sense of relief at seeing the man standing there was friend, not foe, but she most certainly did not. She barely registered Aramis' whispered 'sorry' beside her as she took in the stance Athos had taken in the doorway. His body was held tensely, rigid from head to toe, and while his voice was calm, she could see the cold fury that was radiating from his eyes as he stared at her.

"I think someone better explain this to me. Now please."

_A/N That ended up being quite long, sorry!_

_Thanks again to all of your for following, favouriting. To __Arianka, Mazcotmaker and obh614 thank you for your reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying, or continuing to!_

_Arianka, there is a reason why d'Artagnan made it to 25 without marrying, and I'm happy to include it in a later chapter if that will help. Thanks for your review; I'm glad you took the chance on it! ;)_

_Banana xx_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N Wow, that got a few of you going! Thanks to Mazcotmaker, Dani Malfoy Granger, Ryoma 2014, SCUBA-B96, obh614, Annerizu-san and Andraya the Lat for your reviews! Much appreciated, and they're helping me keep going._

_(Dani Malfoy Granger, don't ever apologise for your English! You're doing much better than I ever could! )_

**Chapter 6**

She only lasted a matter of seconds under that glare before she ducked her head away from it. No one spoke for several moments, everyone seemingly unsure of the best way to proceed. Eventually, the captain took his place as the man in charge and told Athos to step inside and close the door. Charline heard him step in, and winced as the door was closed with some force.

"Again, I suggest that somebody tells me quickly what is going on here."

Porthos and Aramis both began to speak at once, but d'Artagnan stepped out and turned to them, pushing her head up high and taking a deep breath. "I need to do this. The same as I did for you."

They both nodded but looked unsure of what to do next. Treville took over and ushered them out of his office, following them as they left. Again the door was closed, this time with more care and leaving just the two of them inside the room. She finally looked back at him. His face was still glaring his anger, and the affection that she could always see in his eyes, even when he was mad at her for being careless or reckless, was nowhere to be seen. The sliver in her heart grew a little more.

"I was going to tell you, Athos, today."

"Tell me what exactly?" His voice remained steady, but he walked further into the room and threw his hat onto the captain's desk, before turning back and leaning on it while he stared at her, and folding his arms.

He's creating a barrier, she thought. Suddenly, she felt tiny standing in the middle of the room alone, while he stared at her from his authoritative stance. She was glad now of her height, tall for a woman, but always shorter than her musketeers. She pulled back her shoulders and braced herself, chin jutting proudly. If she was going to face him, she was going to do it bravely.

"That I am not Charles d'Artagnan. I have been lying to you all since the day I arrived, but the time has come to tell you the truth. I'm sorry for lying to you, but I felt at the time I needed to. I never planned for this, but the longer I stayed the harder it got, until I didn't want to go anywhere and it became almost impossible." She was proud of how calm her voice stayed, but inside she was begging him to stop looking at her so coldly.

"Are you going to tell me who you are?" Polite and impassive. He shifted slightly against the desk; the tiniest hint of his discomfort.

"I am Charline d'Artagnan, youngest daughter of Alexandre d'Artagnan."

She waited for several seconds for him to react, maintaining her proud stance. She refused to crumble in front of him. She'd save that for later when she was alone.

"Please Athos."

"Please what? Please forget the fact that you've lied to us all for so long, forget that you've put us all in danger with this ridiculous ruse," his voice was starting to get louder. She was almost relieved that he was finally showing some emotion. "Forget that I trusted you?"

"You can still trust me," she whispered.

"No I can't!" He yelled at her fully now, and she couldn't stop herself from flinching.

"There was a reason for it Athos, for all of it-"

"I don't care what you think the reason was _Mademoiselle_," he almost spat the word at her. "We took you in, made you one of us d'Artagnan. You've been fighting with the King's musketeers, and the whole thing has been a lie?"

"I am sorry Athos!" she couldn't stop herself from yelling back at him in frustration. "But I am still the person you know, I am no less a fighter than I was before you knew this. I am still your friend!"

"No."

The single word, spoken quietly but firmly, stopped her.

"No what?"

"No, you're not my friend," he shook his head sadly at her. "You were one of the few people in this world I let myself trust d'Artagnan, and I need to be able to do that with my friends. If I can't have faith in you, then you're not my friend."

She looked at him aghast. She knew he wasn't going to take this well, but she had stupidly allowed herself to hope after her conversations with Porthos and Aramis that it might be alright.

She took a step towards him, eyes pleading with him. "Please Athos, please don't shut me out. You're my family, all of you. I need you all."

He grabbed her arms as she reached him, holding her back as far away from him as he could.

"You know things about me d'Artagnan, things I've never told anyone. I placed more faith in you even than Porthos and Aramis, and I never thought I would do that with anyone."

"I haven't said anything Athos, I never will. I'd never break your trust, never." She desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, offer him some comfort for the emotions she could see battling for supremacy in his eyes.

He let go of her, pushing her away from him. "You already have. And I can't forgive that. Not now."

Her heart finally cracked as she looked at him and realised that he now included her in the list of people who had betrayed him. A short but important list that included his wife, his mother and his father. Suddenly, she felt herself getting angry.

"Do you know something Athos; you've broken my trust too." He raised one eyebrow at her questioningly as she continued. "I trusted that you were the man I saw in you, one who would do anything for his friends, anything to protect them. Including me. You don't even care enough to listen to why I lied, why I continued to, or even why Captain Treville told me I had to tell you all today. I thought you were a good man, a man of integrity and honour."

His anger was obviously rising again as she called his character into question. He was still the man she had thought him to be, she knew that, but she was desperately hurt, and lashing out was the only way she knew of dealing with it.

"You've looked after me for six months Athos. Trained me, taken me under your wing, complained when I was put in any danger you thought unnecessary. How can you do that for so long, then abandon me when I need you most?"

He took a step towards her, closing in on her a bit but maintaining a safe distance.

"I think you've said enough, don't you?" His voice was deathly quiet.

Her anger quivered, then melted away as she realised that she had actually wounded him. She couldn't fathom what was going on in his head, or in his reaction, but she knew that she had taken it too far. She had probably just destroyed any chance she had of regaining any kind of relationship with him.

Before the tears had a chance to fill her eyes completely, she nodded once and turned and left the room. After closing the door behind her, she quickly wiped at her eyes so that the others wouldn't see she had been upset. She walked round the corner, and nearly ran into someone.

"Oh! Oh, sorry sir," she hastily apologised to Captain Treville.

"Are you alright?" Now she heard the hint of fatherly concern that she realised had always been in his voice when he spoke to her.

"Yes, I'm fine, but I- oh," she bit her lip. "He didn't let me explain, but I may have mentioned that you knew about it." She looked at him apologetically.

"I'll speak to him, don't worry."

She nodded at him, smiling weakly in an effort to convince him she believed he could make it better. He clasped her shoulder briefly before walking past her and round into his office. The door closed behind him and she could immediately hear a voice raised in anger. She decided to move in case she heard something that made her feel worse.

The yard was gratifyingly empty, save for the two musketeers who sat waiting in the dark at their usual table in sight of the gate. Everyone on duty must be on night patrol, or inside the mess waiting for orders. When she got to the top of the stairs she felt her resolve begin to waver a bit, but she swallowed the lump that appeared in her throat and walked down towards their concerned faces. She resisted every instinct in her that was telling her to run at them and bury herself in a comforting embrace. She was used to having to resist these feelings, but it hadn't been so hard in a long time.

Neither of them said anything as she reached the table, slid into her usual seat, and threw her arms and head onto the table with a groan.

"It went well then?"

She turned her head enough to open one eye and glare at Aramis, but she couldn't help but feel grateful for his warm support, however inappropriately he tried to give it.

She turned her head back down to the table and spoke into it. "It couldn't have gone worse."

"Well, you say that, but neither of you are dead are you? So that's something."

She sat up and rolled her eyes at Aramis, who appeared to be getting the same treatment from Porthos.

"He hates me, he actually hates me." She dropped her chin into her hands and looked across the table despondently at her friends. The two she had left.

"I doubt that's true d'Artagnan, not really." Porthos' voice was firm.

"He said I'd broken his trust, and he couldn't call anyone who did that a friend."

"Ah."

She looked in panic at Porthos. "What do you mean 'ah'?"

Porthos exchanged a glance with Aramis. "Trust is, well, it's a big thing for him. If he brought that up, then it's probably pretty bad."

She huffed. "Great, thanks."

"It means he's hurt d'Artagnan, more than he is angry I imagine. Remember he doesn't deal with his emotions well, or at all, so he will often appear angry when he is fighting something else."

This time it was her who said it. "Ah."

Anger she could probably have dealt with. She could've worked with that, found small ways to make it up to him, to show him that she was still the same friend, the same person he had chosen to confide his horrible past in. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do. She didn't want to hurt any of them really, but the thought that she had caused pain to Athos, who had never had a woman in his life that hadn't done so, thoroughly drowned her in a feeling of wretched guilt.

"I'm sure he'll come round d'Art, it's just going to take some time." Aramis spoke soothingly to her, reaching across the table briefly to squeeze her hand.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and all three turned and looked across the yard to where Athos was walking down them. No one spoke as he approached, almost marching towards them, his body still rigid with tension.

"D'Artagnan, go home. Report here as usual tomorrow. You two, we need to get organised for tomorrow."

"But I-"

"Go home d'Artagnan." His voice was utterly cold as he spoke to her, but if she hadn't looked squarely back at him she would have missed the sadness betrayed in his eyes.

"Will you-"

"I will do my duty by you, as instructed by my captain. We will deal with Labarge, as necessary." He turned and walked away from her, back up the stairs to Treville's office.

Aramis whistled softly. "What was that you said about taking some time Porthos? We're going to have to talk about this some more." He stood, then hesitated. "Do you want us to see you home?"

"Would you have seen me home yesterday?"

He smiled at her. "Go home kid. We'll see you tomorrow." He reached across to squeeze her hand once again, and then bounded up the stairs after Athos.

This time she couldn't stop the tears that welled up in her eyes as she stood up from the table. She gave Porthos a watery smile, and slowly walked towards the gates. She stopped when he called after her, but didn't turn.

After a moment he spoke from behind her. "It'll be ok, you'll see. I'll talk to him." An arm reached round across the front of her shoulders and he gave her a quick squeeze from behind, and she was sure she felt him press a quick kiss onto the crown of her head. She closed her eyes briefly until he let her go, then continued on her way out into the streets of Paris.

She held onto her tears until she reached home. She walked in, sneaking quietly up the stairs in the darkened house, and went into her room. Then she did the girliest thing she had done in six months, and threw herself onto her bed and sobbed into her pillow.

_A/N Quite angsty! Sorry! Next chapter will be up very soon though, and we'll start dealing with it all, I promise! Hopefully you think the reaction of Athos is realistic. Let me know what you think. _


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N Thank you all (obh614, Dani Malfoy Granger, Annerizu-San, hollyollyholz, Mazcotmaker, asia and anonymous guest!) once again for all of the reviews, and for allaying my fears about my characterisation of Athos! Here's some more..._

**Chapter 7**

The next morning she was at the barracks early. It was an attempt to avoid questions from Constance, who she was sure would have been waiting up for her if she had arrived home earlier the night before. It was also an attempt to see Athos before they left to take Labarge off the hands of the soldiers bringing him towards Paris. She had to show him that she was going nowhere, that she was determined to make things right.

Aramis was the first of them to arrive, and he immediately sat with her at their table, taking some of the food she had gathered for the four of them from the mess.

"You alright?" He asked the question casually as he threw a bit of bread into his mouth.

"Fine." She shrugged at him. "Although I'm not particularly happy I've got to sit here while you get to go and have all the fun."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You do realise that this man could be a huge danger to you?"

"He'll be under the guard of the musketeers, what could happen?" She shrugged back.

"We don't know how many men he has out there," she jumped as Porthos suddenly appeared and spoke behind her. "We need to assess the situation properly." He sat down and helped himself to the meal.

"I know that," she sighed. "I just hate missing out, that's all."

Aramis grinned at her. "You were never going to be a lady, were you?"

She let out a bark of laughter. "No, I wasn't. It was just me and my father anyway, from when I was quite young. There was nobody to teach me how. I always preferred the sword to a needle."

"Still, is there not bits of life as a girl you miss?" Porthos squirmed a little awkwardly as he asked the question, not quite sure how to put it.

She shrugged. "I didn't really have much to miss. I didn't have many friends, other than the brothers on the next farm, and I fought with them more than anything else." She chewed her bread thoughtfully. "I suppose I miss a couple of things. My hair, for one."

Suddenly, she realised that they had successfully moved her away from the topic of Labarge. And they were completely avoiding the topic of Athos.

"How were, um, things, after I went home?" She asked tentatively.

She never got an answer. Instead Porthos looked up and nodded towards the gates. "Here comes the morning sunshine, see for yourself."

Athos was walking purposefully towards them, his expression serious, but not glaring icicles at her like the night before.

"Are you both ready?" Aramis and Porthos both stood, nodding and squaring their hats onto their heads. "Then we should go. Will you bring the horses please?"

D'Artagnan stared after them in a mild panic as they walked away, leaving her with an early morning Athos. Not always the best version of him.

"We will be back by early afternoon, and we will talk then."

She gaped at him stupidly for a moment. His voice was almost soft when he spoke to her, little trace of the coldness that had reduced her to sobs. He wasn't smiling at her, but there was something in his facial expression, something tiny but there, that gave her a little bit of hope that she hadn't lost him altogether.

"But you, I-, oh." She was completely flustered, and apparently incapable of putting together a proper sentence. She nearly fell at his feet in a puddle when her attempt to speak brought a crooked smile to his face for a moment. She loved that smile.

"Yesterday was not a good day. I apologise for being so harsh with you, but there are still things we need to discuss, and things that I need to think some more about. I am still angry, but I will not abandon you d'Artagnan. I promise you that."

She nodded dumbly at him as he moved away from the table, towards a mounted Porthos and Aramis who had just led his own horse into the yard with them.

She couldn't stop herself calling out after him, softly enough that no one else would hear. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I would never do that intentionally, never."

He turned at her words, and she was worried for a second that she had angered him by showing she had seen a vulnerability in him. But he just looked at her for a moment, then nodded an acknowledgement of her apology before moving on and joining the others. She stood a moment later as they rode past her, grinning at the wink Porthos sent her as he passed by.

Things could, maybe, be okay.

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Captain Treville didn't send her out without another patrol for the morning, but he kept her busy with menial jobs that filled her time and kept her mind occupied. It was only at sporadic points that she had time to think about what they might be doing, or wonder if they were alright, or wonder what Labarge was like.

By the end of the morning she was getting agitated. She hated this. She hated not knowing where they were, or when they would be back, or whether they were facing some danger that none of them had foreseen. Essentially, they were a man down as she would normally have been with them, and she couldn't help but blame herself a little for that, ridiculous as it may be as she would be there had she been allowed to be.

She was only half surprised when Constance appeared in the yard at lunch time. She was sitting, picking at her food, by herself when a shadow fell across her and she looked up to see her friend standing there, hands on hips.

"You avoided me this morning."

"Sorry, I had to leave early to get here before, well before they left."

"Before who left? What's going on?" Constance sat across from her, taking Aramis' usual seat.

She quietly explained that Labarge was on his way to a cell in Paris, and that the others had gone to collect him. Constance nodded firmly when she complained that she hadn't been allowed to go with them, but looked sympathetic when she described her anxiety at not knowing what was going on.

"When do you expect them back?"

"Soon, I suppose."

"Not too long to cope then. And how did it all go?" She raised one eyebrow at d'Artagnan.

"As expected, I suppose. Porthos was great, really great. He just took it all in his stride, as he does, you know?" Constance nodded. "And Aramis, well he was a bit more reluctant to accept it, but I talked him round I suppose. He's been great too, honestly." She smiled.

"And Athos?"

Her smile faded a bit. "Well, it was difficult. He, well he was really quite angry. I don't think I've seen him angry like that before, but Porthos said it was because I had hurt him. I felt awful Constance. He has, well, issues with trusting people because of various things, things that he told me about in confidence. He said that I had broken his trust, so I couldn't be his friend." Her voice wobbled as she reached the end of his speech.

"He what? How dare he-"

"No Constance, he was right to feel the way he does. I can't explain it without breaking his confidence, but I can understand it. Anyway, he was calmer this morning and said we would talk when they get back."

"Ah I see, this is the reason for the agitation." Constance smiled at her.

"No! Well, maybe a bit I suppose." She grinned back. It was good to have someone who knew the whole story, including her unrequited feelings for her musketeer.

"And the reason you snuck out early, to make sure you saw him?"

She nodded.

Constance looked at her carefully then sighed. "Be careful d'Artagnan. Please don't let your heart get broken."

Charline smiled back sadly. "I think it's inevitable. I'll settle for being his friend again at the moment."

"Just be careful, ok?"

"I'll try."

"I better go," Constance smiled at her and stood. "I'm supposed to be fetching meat from the market for dinner. Bonacieux's at home waiting. I just wanted to check you were alright. I'll see you later." She stood and walked away, leaving d'Artagnan to continue picking at her meal for as long as she could bear it.

It was while she was sparring with a couple of other musketeers, who had graciously let her join them, that they arrived back.

They rode into the barracks, each of them looking absolutely furious. She stood, sword loosely in her hand as she gaped at them. The three of them dismounted, throwing the reins to a stable boy who had run out on hearing the hooves entering the yard, and headed straight for the stairs to Treville's office. At the last minute Aramis paused, obviously looking for her, and she stepped into his eyeline. He gestured with his head that she should follow them. She gave her sword to a fellow gaping musketeer and hurried up the stairs after them.

Athos was already in full flow when she entered the room and closed the door.

"They had no right! None!" He was walking back and forth in front of Treville's desk. The captain was still in his chair, but with a look of fury on his face that matched the ones on Porthos and Aramis' beside her.

"What happened?"

"Red Guards." Porthos practically spat the words.

Athos stopped pacing and turned to look at her. "They took Labarge."

"But why?"

"We have no idea. It can't be good though." She couldn't read him at all as he continued to look at her, but she herself was feeling the beginning of something akin to fear.

Athos turned back to the captain. "I don't trust this."

"I'm not happy either Athos, but I doubt that the Cardinal is either, considering his captain is dead," he raised an eyebrow at the three musketeers in the room, but not of them changed their facial expression a single iota. He sighed. "I must go and see the king, before the cardinal gets to him and has you up on some trumped up charge. What about d'Artagnan?"

Porthos spoke up. "He was saying nothing. We tried to discover why he was coming to Paris, but he gave nothing away. He didn't react at all until those fools insisted on taking him and he attacked."

"Do you think he is alone?"

"A man like that? I very much doubt it. He's an out and out thug Captain, not a discernable positive attribute to be found."

With a final sigh, the captain swept from the room. The others began talking instantly, while d'Artagnan quietly moved herself to the side of the room and slid to the floor, sitting against the wall.

"We need to find out why he's here." Aramis was firm, and was immediately agreed with by the others. "He's up to something, there's no way a man like that would be heading to Paris, knowing he is wanted, without a reason."

"We'll have to rely on the captain to get him back into our custody." Athos' faith in Treville was unshakable.

"And how is he going to do that, when he can't tell anyone what is really going on?"

Athos paused for a moment. "I have absolutely no idea."

"D'Artagnan?" Porthos was suddenly hunched down in front of her. "Alright?"

She nodded. "I just don't have a great feeling about this, that's all." An understatement if ever there was one. She felt awful, like something terrible was just around the corner, and she just couldn't quite see it.

"Me neither." He smiled at her and she couldn't help smile back.

"We can do nothing until the captain returns. We may as well go and eat. He stood, offering her a hand and pulling her to her feet.

"We'll join you shortly." Athos dismissed Aramis and Porthos. Obviously the time for their conversation had arrived.

She waited for him to begin as he began pacing again, his features drawn in confusion as he thought of how to begin. Eventually he stopped, and looked at her, eyes searching her face.

"Do you trust me d'Artagnan?"

"Absolutely." She didn't hesitate.

"But not with the truth of you are."

She winced. "I wanted to, so many times, but I just couldn't." She paused, but he said nothing. This time he was obviously going to let her explain.

"When I first arrived, obviously I was looking for you, thinking that you had murdered my father. I meant to challenge you, to kill you if I could, and to do that I needed to maintain the disguise my father had put me in. I had no other clothing with me anyway, as you know."

He nodded, leaning against the desk as he had done the night before. She looked at him and wished suddenly that he didn't look quite so damn good doing it.

"Well, then when everything got cleared up I realised that I had nowhere to go, no other options. When I was allowed to stay, I knew that I wanted to. I also knew that I couldn't if anyone knew the truth. I had fooled you all easily to begin with, so where was the harm in continuing with my lie while I worked out what to do? I got too comfortable I suppose. I was happy! There were no expectations on _Charles_, I could fight how I wanted to, I had friends, I was protected. Without the musketeers I had none of that."

"Were you ever planning to tell the truth, to your friends?" He was still looking at her sternly, but he was_ listening_.

"How long could I keep it going?" She shrugged. "There was only so long you would believe I was young d'Artagnan. When I reached my mid twenties would you not find it odd I still could not grow any facial hair? The age my father gave me was a good option, but it couldn't last forever."

"Gave you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. I'm older than I told you. Just another lie you can add to the list." She smiled weakly at him. "I think when the time came, when I realised that I couldn't get away with it any longer, I would just have left."

"You would have said nothing?"

"Look at how you reacted Athos! It wasn't easy with the others either. How could I choose to face that? It would break me to leave, but to leave with your hatred? I couldn't do it. Cowardly, I know."

"And you think it wouldn't have broken us? For you just to leave without a word?"

Her heart leapt at the insinuation that he cared, but she pushed it back down. She could not read more than was there into anything he said. That way heralded the path to ruin. Instead she looked at the floor and said sullenly: "I would've left a note."

His chuckle surprised her. "Of course you would."

They were silent for a few moments as he thought about what she had said.

"What now?" She needed to know.

He contemplated her again. She didn't think he'd spent as much time looking at her in the whole of the six months she had known him as he had in the last day.

"It's still the same difficulty. Labarge is a problem that must be taken care of, one way or another. After that, well as you say it is only so long you will be able to get away with your lie."

She wanted to flinch from the reminder of 'her lie', but instead she crossed her arms defiantly. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't continue as I have been until that time comes?"

He shook his head at her, exasperated with her usual stubbornness. "We shall speak to the captain after this is over, and make a decision about what is to be done."

To her surprise he took a few steps towards her. "I wonder that I never noticed that you were a woman d'Artagnan. When I look at you with knowledge, it is perfectly clear."

Her heart was suddenly pounding. "I've been told I'm very good at playing my part."

"That you are." He shook himself out of his reverie, his voice suddenly stern again. "And you must continue to be. There is more than just your life at stake."

His face softened again when she bit her lip, but quickly hardened as he put up his barriers once again.

"I don't mean to sound like I don't care. But this is difficult, very difficult, to deal with. It will take time for me to trust you, if I can at all."

She took a deep breath. "I know you'd rather I didn't mention any of it, but I need you to know that my lie does not make me like them. I need you to try and understand the reasons for it. I, more than most, know why you are finding this so difficult, why it hurts so much that I betrayed the trust you offered me. But when you told me of your past, and with what happened in the house, it just made it harder to tell you that I had lied."

He didn't say anything.

"I just mean that I understand your reaction, I suppose."

He smiled wryly. "Well that's something."

"I accept that things will be different Athos, I do. I just don't see what I can do, other than continue as I was." She took a step forward this time, almost standing toe to toe with him now. "I earned your trust before, didn't I?"

"No," he answered her quietly. "I just trusted you instinctively, for some reason. I couldn't understand it, and now I understand it even less."

"You always say you should trust your instincts."

"Yes, well trust isn't exactly working in my favour at the moment is it?" He stepped away from her and moved to the door of the office, his voice once again abrupt as he left her. "We should go."

She watched him walk out of the room and sighed, moving to Treville's desk and leaning for a moment in the spot where he had been leaning. This was how it was going to be, she knew it. She may think she was getting through to him, but his anger would continue to flare up just when she thought she'd made a difference. He would leave when he was hurt, and continue to blame her for her lie, and associate her with all the other women in his life.

And she would continue to love him, and ache for the moment when he would truly see her, and take her in his arms. For the moment that she knew was never going to happen.

_A/N Sorry it's kinda sad again! I wasn't going to leave it there, but it's already over 3000 words, so I thought I better. Hopefully it's had impact this way! ;)_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N Sorry! This one took a while, so excuse the few days since the last chapter. Thank you yet again, for your support._

_Dani Malfoy Granger – I'm glad you're still enjoying it! And who wouldn't be a little in love with Athos? He has __always__ been my favourite musketeer._

_Asia – If you're really checking that often then I'm sorry I made you wait! Hopefully it was worth it._

_Tianne – Thanks for your comprehensive review! ;) I was very careful to keep all three reveals as individual as possible, hence not even having her say it to Aramis. Repetitive plot within a story is never a plus point. I'm glad you still like Charline. I absolutely hate Mary Sue characters, in anything, so she will always be fallible and human, don't worry!_

**Chapter 8**

She could feel Athos' eyes on her as she ducked under Aramis' sword for the umpteenth time, dancing away from Porthos as he jabbed at her from the other side. They had been sparring in the yard for some time now, although only with swords as they had all awkwardly refused her requests for hand to hand practice.

Still, she as enjoying the dance – even if Athos was watching her performance with new eyes, assessing her as if he'd never seen her before. Well, she was showing him. She had never been so light on her feet before, weaving around her two opponents quickly and with the agility she had always been proud of. The fight had been going on forever, and still they had not bettered her.

She risked a glance at Athos, his eyes still trained on her, and a strange expression on his face. He was definitely assessing her, but was that a hint of admiration she could see?

She paused a moment too long. The next thing she knew her sword was gone as Porthos knocked it out of her hand, and she was flat on her back in the yard, Aramis grinning down at her with his own sword pointed at her throat. She glared back.

"Now now, you know better than to let yourself get distracted." His grin didn't fade as he held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. She glared at him in an attempt to cove her embarrassment. She hated losing, and she hated that Athos had seen it.

She got straight back into fighting stance. "Again?"

Porthos moved obligingly into position while Aramis moved away to get a drink. The game began again, fiercer than before with just the two of them. Porthos was grinning at her and she found herself grinning back. She relaxed slightly as Athos moved away to join Aramis.

Treville entered the yard ten minutes later, just as she finally got the upper hand and struck Porthos with the winning blow. She looked up in triumph, a happy grin spread over her face as she looked towards Athos and Aramis. It faded as she took the captain into her view, the expression on his face serious and instantly putting the worry from earlier back into her heart.

When Treville didn't head for his office, but instead moved to the table they usually occupied in the yard, d'Artagnan suddenly became aware of how empty the yard had become, and how much the light had faded. They must have been waiting for him for hours.

She was the last to arrive at the table, walking slowly towards the group to put off the inevitable. The captain was sitting in her seat so she prepared to stand at the end, but without thought Athos moved up the bench a little, leaving space for her on the end beside him. She sat carefully, trying not to touch him as she gingerly balanced on the edge of the bench. She realised what she was doing and quickly behaved herself when she noticed Porthos looking at her like she had gone insane, and made herself sit normally. She ignored the warmth of Athos' leg pressed against hers, and focused on the rather more important matter of the discussion at hand.

"So the King took the cardinal's side?" Aramis was asking.

"Not quite, but he seemed rather...excited...about the idea of a contest." Treville leaned over his hands, which were clasped on the table in front of him, and shook his head.

"Sorry, what contest?"

"A contest between the red guards and the musketeers." Athos answered her quietly.

"For what?"

"For Labarge."

"Ah."

Treville sighed deeply. "The cardinal was rather too interested in why we wanted him back, but I talked a lot about honour, and mentioned that he had done me some wrong in the past. He seemed satisfied, but we'll have to be careful."

"I'm sorry to be causing so much trouble." She spoke quietly.

Everyone looked at her, and the captain leaned round Athos to speak to her. "My friendship with your father, and the affect this man had on his life, would be enough to make me want to bring this man to justice. Do not blame yourself for what is happening now."

She nodded, averting her eyes from everyone. Porthos rescued her.

"So what happens with this contest?"

"A champion of the red guards and a champion of the musketeers. Swords and pistols. The winner gets custody of Labarge, and a reward from the King." Treville looked exhausted.

A champion! This could be her chance, to feel finally like she belonged, to show Athos that she was still worthy of his time, and her place here. She quickly dampened down her flash of excitement. Did this make her the most selfish being on earth? To think of herself when she had brought this upon them, whatever Treville said. Hardly the mentality of an honourable musketeer.

"Well my friends, it seems it is time for me to finally put you in your place!" Aramis grinned around the table at them all, met with a raised eyebrow from Porthos that said without a doubt he had a fight on his hands.

"The contest is not all, gentlemen." Treville interrupted before a good-natured argument could unfold. "I requested some time to question Labarge, which was granted."

Everyone was suddenly solemn and focused, listening intently as their captain told them of his meeting with the criminal.

"I was reluctant to speak with him, as obviously he knows me and links me with the name d'Artagnan, but I had to know why he was coming here, and what he knew," the captain paused in a way that told Charline quite clearly that they were not going to like what he had to say. "He knew of your father's death d'Artagnan, although he seemed disappointed that he had not been behind it. But he knew, somehow, that Alexandre had been killed while travelling with his son."

"And where does he think Monsieur d'Artagnan's son is?" Athos spoke quietly.

"He didn't say. I couldn't ask directly. I did however get the impression that he knows exactly where young d'Artagnan is, or at the very least knew he was in Paris and was on his way to find him."

D'Artagnan felt Athos' entire body go tense at her side. "If he mentions the name d'Artagnan to anyone he will soon find out where to find her. She must be removed from here, she must leave."

He didn't seem to notice her echoing his tension at his words.

"We can protect her far better here where we can see her than if we send her out of our sight!" Porthos wasn't happy with Athos' suggestion either.

"If he doesn't know where to find her then-"

"Well he knew to find her in Paris when there was no way he could know, didn't he?" Aramis, it seemed, was on her side too.

The captain cleared his throat and stopped the argument dead.

"D'Artagnan?"

At last someone was allowing her to speak for herself. She took a moment to settle her anger, which has laced instantly through her, almost white-hot in its potency, when Athos had immediately suggested she should simply leave. So much for trying to move forward, and give her time to prove herself. The anger was the only thing keeping her from falling apart as she realised that he had leapt on the first opportunity to get her out of his hair.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"D'Artagnan-"

"No Athos! I will not run and hide from this man, waiting for word that you have sorted out the problem for me. I already explained to you why I cannot leave here, why I have no wish to, and you would instantly have me pushed out at the first sign of trouble." She stopped herself before she started babbling about being hurt or angry. Being emotional about it was not going to convince anyone she could cope with this latest development. She ignored Athos, who was staring at her slightly taken aback, and the smiles that Aramis and Porthos were trying to hide at the other side of the table.

Instead she asked the captain the question that she truly wanted an answer to. "Will I be allowed to try out to be the musketeers' champion?" She asked it proudly, and determined. Her tone showed that she knew she was good enough, and that she was asking despite knowing what the response would be.

"You are not a musketeer d'Artagnan." The captain spoke firmly, but without patronising her.

She stood from the table, unable to stay much longer without exploding, one way or another. "As I expected. If I am permitted captain, I will leave and let you and your _men _get back to planning."

She walked away from them slowly, without waiting for a response. She heard someone getting to their feet, then Porthos' telling whoever it was to let her go. They were assuming that she was reacting to the news that Labarage was coming for her, but in truth she hadn't even begun to think about that. That could be dealt with later.

First she had to deal with the knowledge that Athos was quite happy to have her out of his sight.

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She wasn't surprised when there was a knock at the door a couple of hours later, and even less surprised when she went to answer it and found Aramis and Porthos standing there grinning at her, no Athos in sight.

What took her by surprise was when they grabbed an arm each and dragged her out the house, Porthos calmly calling inside to Constance that they were 'borrowing' her for a few hours and not to worry. She found herself arm in arm with two musketeers, and being led firmly through the streets to their usual tavern. She didn't even bother to ask any questions, or to protest.

Within minutes, she was sitting at a table in a darkened corner, hemmed in by both men, with a bottle of wine making its way over to them courtesy of the barmaid Aramis has called on and winked at when they arrived.

"I may have said yes, you know." She arched one eyebrow at them as she took her first drink.

"More fun this way," was Porthos' dry response.

She sighed.

"Are you over your tantrum yet?" Aramis asked her calmly.

"What tantrum?! I did not have a tantrum." The two of them were looking at her doubtfully. "Okay, so I might have had a _little_ one, but you, all of you were treating me like a, like a-"

"Like a girl?" Aramis looked at her pointedly. She glared back, then harder when he said. "You just proved it by acting like one and walking away in a temper."

Porthos sighed. "Stop teasing her. Look, we told you it's going to take some time. Whether you are Charles or Charline, we were never going to be happy to put you in that kind of danger, when we didn't need to."

"Athos wants me gone," she said sadly.

"Athos is the most over-protective friend you will ever have, and you know it." Porthos was being firm with her, and she knew deep down he was right. She was letting her own feelings for the musketeer cloud her thoughts in response to anything he said. She couldn't keep doing it. "He doesn't want you gone, he wants you safe."

"He's not dealing with this very well."

"That's not his fault." Aramis spoke quietly.

"I know," she sighed. "I wish he wouldn't avoid me though."

"Who's avoiding you? He sent us to get you!" Porthos rolled his eyes at her.

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. He'll be here once he has taken care of a couple of things."

She felt suddenly warmer than she had all day.

The three of them sat chatting amicably for a while, avoiding the topic of Labarge as far as possible. She felt a strange nervousness growing in her stomach as they waited for Athos to appear. She tried telling herself how stupid it was; this was a man she had lived and worked beside for half a year! Just because she suddenly realised the truth of her feelings for him she was scared to see him, to talk to him.

Enough.

She forced herself instead to listen to Aramis and Porthos bantering about which of them would be the musketeers' champion, and let herself get jealous about that instead.

"What do you think d'Artagnan, which one of us will it be?"

She did not want to get drawn into this argument.

"You don't think there's a chance it will be neither of you?" she asked casually. They both stared at her, Aramis slightly aghast.

"Do you mean you think there is a better musketeer out there than two of your dearest friends? We, who have taught you so much? I am wounded d'Artagnan, wounded." He ended his complaint with a dramatic clench of hands to his stomach.

She laughed at him, Porthos joining in. This is what life had been, what she wanted it to be again.

"I've yet to see anyone beat Athos with a sword, why would you not assume that he would be the musketeers' champion?" Nonchalance was key here, to avoid the others noticing the extent of her admiration for him.

"Pffft," Aramis managed to scoff as if what she said was ridiculous. "He'll never be the musketeer champion."

She was surprised that Porthos was nodding in agreement. "Why ever not?"

"Because I would rather not become the centre of a spectacle for all of Paris to see."

She jumped slightly when Athos' voice spoke calmly beside her, and she realised he had appeared out of nowhere to stand at her shoulder, against the wall she was cornered into. She turned to look at him, and was rewarded with a slight smile as he spoke again.

"Of course, by standing aside is the only way that another musketeer would ever be considered as the champion of the regiment, and it is my duty to stand aside and show a good example of restraint, and humility."

During this speech he reached to the table next to them, picking up and empty stool and placing at their table, in a space next to d'Artagnan that was created as Porthos moved a little round the table.

The conversation sparked up immediately, and she began to relax as she enjoyed an evening with her friends like the ones she used to have. Now, however, she did not have to hide the fact that she was drinking a lot less than they were, which made everything much easier. She let them talk and laugh and annoy each other for some time, emptying a couple of bottles of wine, before she broached the subject of the champion again.

"I think I should compete to be the champion."

The laughter around and table stopped immediately as they all looked at her.

"You heard the captain, musketeers only," said Athos.

"I am practically a musketeer! Just without a commission." She looked him straight in the eye, stubborn as always.

"There's a couple of other things you're missing as well," added Aramis, causing her to blush as he chuckled at her. She silenced him with yet another glare.

"You must see that you cannot do this in the circumstances d'Art." Porthos, as ever, the voice of reason.

She sighed, a little dramatically. "I suppose so. But what about before you knew the truth? Would you have ever expected me to let this go?" She raised an eyebrow at them all.

Athos laughed a little. "Not in the least."

Her heart leapt as she realised she had found her opportunity. "Then don't you think the rest of the men will find it odd that the headstrong, stubborn little d'Artagnan would just meekly accept that he _wasn't allowed_?" She grinned at them in satisfaction.

"True, true." Athos seemed to be mulling it over, while the others were nodding in agreement. Aramis was looking at her with something akin to pride on his face, realising she had learned some skills from him in negotiation.

"So, I can?" She forced her voice to stay calm.

Athos looked at her for a moment, then suddenly turned to Porthos. "What do you think?"

"I think sword." He was looking at her seriously.

"Aramis?"

"I don't know. Not pistols. Combat perhaps?"

"A possibility."

She was really, really confused. There was a little air of smugness around the three of them, that she was rather suspicious of.

Athos seemed to make a decision. "No, I think Porthos is right. Sword it is. One of you is going to have to do it, tomorrow I think."

The other two musketeers groaned in unison.

"What exactly is going on here? Am I missing something? You haven't answered my question!"

They ignored her again and a quick coin toss was completed beside her, which Aramis seemed very unhappy to lose. He complained momentarily, but was quickly silence.

"Fine, fine. I'll do it. But next time it's someone else." He folded his arms crossly.

"What is going on?!" She was practically yelling at them now.

As one, Aramis, Porthos and Athos all turned to look at her, innocent smiles gracing the faces of the latter two, while Aramis still pouted.

"You are absolutely right d'Artagnan. No one would expect that you would back down from this, certainly without a fight. So we will let you try out with everyone else tomorrow." Porthos spoke soothingly to her.

She had to stop herself squealing in excitement. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Athos nodded seriously at her. "You will try out, and then Aramis here will have a little accident with his sword and you will have to withdraw."

"Sorry, what?"

"You want to get involved, fine. But you cannot compete, at the risk of all our necks. A slight cut to your arm, which will look a lot worse than it is, will give you the perfect excuse."

"He's going to cut me? On purpose?!" Her mouth hung open.

Aramis was suddenly grinning at her. "You wanted us to treat you like the boy we knew before. Here you go."

She opened her mouth to argue, but had absolutely nothing to say. She had talked herself into this corner, and she knew they would never truly harm her. It didn't stop her from deflating instantly, slouching against the wall at her back while cursing at all three of them. She sat there and glared, her arms folded and a look on her face that suggested she would happily kill them all.

Their response was to raise their glasses to her, and toast her in unison.

"Cheers, d'Artagnan!"

She growled. They laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

The yard was full of anxious and excited musketeers, a low murmur of anticipation winding through the air as they stood in vague formation, waiting for Captain Treville to appear and explain why they had all been told to gather here at this time.

D'Artagnan stood alongside her friends, trying not to look as if she knew what was coming. She was ignoring her pounding headache that reminded her that she had let her guard slip and drank too much wine the night before, her frustration and annoyance at her friends making her get carried away while she had sat fuming, and not speaking to them.

Two girlish tantrums in one day. She was suddenly not sure that Athos was the only one not dealing with this very well.

In contrast to her delicate state, Aramis and Porthos both seemed fresh as a daisy. She could feel the anticipation thrumming from the on either side of her – both evidently looking forward to a whole day of sparring and proving themselves over the other musketeers.

"I can't wait for this, it's going to be a good day," Aramis said, smiling and almost bouncing on the spot in his boyish excitement.

She turned her head and looked at him, arms folded, eyebrow lifted in question.

"Well, obviously not _that_ part, just, um, generally."

She felt a strong sense of satisfaction when his enthusiasm for the day ahead suddenly waned a little. She was not looking forward to this ridiculous plan of theirs, and she was damned if Aramis was going to be allowed to look forward to his part in it.

Porthos grinned at her other side. "I'm going to have a great day."

"Shut up."

She thought she heard Athos chuckle from the other side of Aramis at his obvious huff. Perhaps today was going to be a good day.

A hush fell over the barracks as Treville finally appeared on the balcony to address his men. She barely listened as he spoke; instead she was looking around the yard, sizing up the other musketeers to see which ones she hoped she could beat. Aramis nudged her.

"So today will be a training day – practice for the trials which will be completed this evening. This is your chance to hone your skills. For those of you who do not wish to put yourself forward please offer your services to those who do. Remember this is a contest for honour. They took something of ours, and we are going to show them that we will be taking it back. Continue." Treville swept away from the balcony back into his office, and d'Artagnan felt a small surge of admiration for the man who could hold the attention and respect of so many good men. Her father had been much the same.

"Come on, let's get started." Athos led the three of them away to a quieter space in the yard. Obviously his plan for the day was to train them, or at least put Charline through her paces.

"Swords first?" He asked all three of them when they had settled into an empty space.

"Pistols." He raised an eyebrow at her demanding tone, but smiled when he realised what she was doing. Swords would come later, as they would be her last event of the day. If she was going to be allowed to compete, then her training was going to last as long as possible.

"Pistols it is."

Porthos quickly called over one of the stable boys, who willingly fetched a target for them while they loaded their weapons.

"Now remember at times like this you have the time to concentrate, to breathe through your shot, so take it. Firing a shot in a confrontation is different from hitting a target with time to prepare, so remember that."

She rolled her eyes at Aramis as he started explaining it to her. " I have done this before you know."

She laughed when he caught her by surprise and stuck out his tongue at her. "Fine. Go ahead."

Standing confidently in position, she lined up her shot and fired – missing the centre of the target by several inches. She cursed.

"Tut tut, language d'Artagnan!" Aramis smoothly moved into position, nudging her unceremoniously out of the way with his hip. "Now as I was saying..."

She watched as he took his time, lining up his shot carefully, waiting several seconds before he fired and hitting the target dead centre. He turned and grinned at her.

"Alright, alright. Show me then."

For the next few minutes she allowed Aramis to carefully show her how to aim for such a small target, to take stock of the air and use it to make your aim true.

"As I said, taking your time with a target under pressure is a different experience."

"I've fired at targets before too," she muttered.

"And you always hit them, but never the centre. Now try."

Her next shot was much closer to the centre, a mere inch away.

"Much better. Again."

As she stood and took her next few shots, she listened carefully to Aramis' instructions, and the advice helpfully offered by Athos and Porthos where they watched at the side, and gradually her shot was surer and surer, until finally she hit the target dead on.

Aramis flung his arms around her shoulders and squeezed her, whooping noisily as he did so. Porthos came over and grabbed her into a brief hug, complete with manly pats on the back that made her feel as if her spine was going to come through and knock her ribs out of place. She glanced at Athos and saw him watching her easy affection with the others with a strange look on his face. When he noticed her looking her gave her another glimpse of her favourite crooked grin.

"Well done d'Artagnan."

"Thanks," she answered breathlessly, still not quite recovered from Porthos' attempt to break her with a hug, and not helped by the flash of the smile she so loved.

Congratulations over, she was quickly pushed aside as Porthos and Aramis decided they were going to stage their own little competition. Athos took a seat on a table near them, his feet on the bench in front of him, so she went and sat in a similar position beside him.

They watched for a few moments in companionable silence.

"Have you decided yet?" Athos asked her quietly.

"Decided what?"

"Whether you can trust yourself to lose when you have to, so that Treville is not forced to appoint you as the champion, or if Aramis is going to have to injure you out."

She sighed. She didn't particularly want to do either of them, and said as much without taking her eyes off of her competing friends, who were now arguing about whether or not Aramis had distracted Porthos on purpose.

"You know why we cannot let you be the champion." He wasn't looking at her either.

"I know why, but I still think I could do it."

They fell silent for a few minutes more, watching the other two in amusement as Porthos tried to retaliate (as Aramis had most definitely distracted the big musketeer) and put a rather calm and focused Aramis off his stride. It wasn't working.

Athos took her by surprise with another quiet question. "Would it make it easier if I agreed with you, that you could indeed do it, if circumstances were different?"

She turned to look at him finally, mouth agape and a look of wonder on her face. He met her look with one of wry amusement.

"It might," she spluttered.

"Alright. If circumstances were different, and Labarge were not a direct threat to you, I would be doing all I could to give you the chance to be selected."

"Even with the truth that you now know?"

"I cannot answer that d'Artagnan. I do know, and it affects my reactions, of course it does. But I can acknowledge that you are a good soldier, and worthy of being a musketeer. Will that do?"

She nodded dumbly. He smiled back at her then turned back to watch their companions once again.

"Good. Now decide."

She frowned. She knew what they wanted. The suggestion of being injured had been purely for show, to make her see that what she wanted was not going to materialise. The sensible option, the only real option, was to somehow lose when she was competing for the position. But Athos had been right to ask if she could trust herself to do that. She was the most competitive person she knew of, and probably amongst the most stubborn.

And so it was partly through knowing her limitations in her pride, but partly through wanted to make a point in return to her friends, that she surprised Athos when she jutted out her chin firmly, eyes staring straight ahead, and announced that she would not forfeit so Aramis was going to have to injure her.

She could feel Athos staring at her for a few moments, but she did not look in his direction. She simply heard him growl out a frustrated "fine" between gritted teeth, then he had pushed himself off the table and made his way over to Porthos and Aramis, who had tossed aside their pistols and begun wrestling in earnest a few moments before.

She watched as his presence immediately made them stop, effortlessly commanding the same kind of respect from his peers as his captain did. He spoke to them quickly, and both Porthos and Aramis turned their heads to stare at her from their positions on the ground. Porthos shook his head at her, knowing she was just being stubborn, and Aramis simply looked resigned. They looked back at Athos as he spoke again, then nodded as they got to their feet and made their way over to her, drawing their swords as they moved.

Her facial expression did not change as she watched this whole exchange. She was going to show them. They might not be happy about it, but they had given her this option, so she was going to take it.

"Swords." Athos only said the one word, but it was clearly a gruff instruction. She hopped down from the table, drawing her sword and moving to face him while the others began sparring behind him.

She listened attentively as he gave her instruction, showing her how to better anticipate her opponent's movements and how to improve on the moves and avoidance measures she could already do well. Once she had been beaten by him for some time, but improving with every match, he announced he was stepping aside to watch and one of the others should take over.

Porthos went to walk forwards, but at a look from Athos he stopped and Aramis came to her instead. It seemed Athos wanted this over with as soon as possible. Fine.

The two of them danced for several minutes, matching each other's moves and her demonstrating all the time how well she had listened to Athos' advice.

Then she allowed herself to wonder for a moment if she should do something to let Aramis hit her, and that was distraction enough. She felt a sharp sting as his sword sliced into her right arm a little, not deeply but enough to hurt, and enough to bleed down the sleeve of her jacket. Instinctively she dropped her sword and pressed her left hand against the wound, hissing as the stinging pain increased. The worry and apology in Aramis' eyes was completely genuine as he moved quickly to her side, Athos and Porthos right behind him.

"Let me see d'Artagnan." He moved her hand gently away, but quickly realised he would need to remove her jacket. Her eyes widened in panic when he said so, and his eyes narrowed in confusion for a moment, before realisation dawned.

"Come on. Upstairs." He released her hand and let her take hold of her wound again, leading her quickly through the throng of sparring musketeers, some of whom had paused on seeing what had happened, and upstairs to the small room that was often used to treat wounded soldiers. She made sure on her way past that everyone who looked at her could see the blood.

She followed quietly as he opened the door, saying nothing as she quickly regretted choosing this option. Damn her stubbornness, this hurt! She heard the door close and realised that Porthos and Athos had followed.

"Jacket."

Obediently, she removed her jacket, holding out her arm for him to see.

"If you were anyone else I would ask you to remove the shirt too. It means I'll need to cut the sleeve of your shirt." He smiled weakly at her.

She nodded, feeling slightly queasy as she looked at the blood that still trickled down her arm smoothly._ Do not faint, do not faint. _She looked away as he cut into her shirt, carefully slicing up the sleeve all the way to her underarm. He took her arm gently in his hands and began to inspect it. Porthos peered over his shoulder and Athos began to pace across the door. He was muttering to himself but all she heard was sporadic words like "reckless", "stubborn", "idiot". She decided to ignore him.

"You're fine d'Artagnan. I was afraid I had cut deeper than I mean to, but you're fine."

"Stitches?" she asked, really hoping not.

"Just a couple."

Porthos grinned at her. "Do you want Athos to punch you?"

"No thanks. I can take it." She sounded proud, but she was slightly terrified. Stitches would be a new experience to her, and she didn't think she was going to enjoy it.

She was right.

Aramis fetched the bag of medical supplies from the chest in the room then made her sit down on the cot before he began to work. She hissed as the needle punctured her skin for the first time, a wave of nausea hitting her as the strange sensation of the thread being pulled through her skin hit her. Athos flinched at her hiss, but continued pacing, while Porthos sat immediately at her side as Aramis gave her a moment to get used to the feeling.

With Porthos' arm squeezed around her, she allowed herself to turn away from what Aramis was doing and squashed her face into Porthos' shoulder.

"All done."

She lifted her head and looked over to a smiling Aramis.

Four neat stitches in a matter of minutes. Aramis was clearly pleased with his work as he cleaned the blood from her arm, and wrapped the wound in a clean bandage. She tried to cover her embarrassment at her need of comfort and stood quickly to thank him and put her jacket back on.

She wavered slightly as the blood loss hit her for a moment and it was Athos who caught her as she started to lean a bit too far forward.

"Alright?" His voice was very soft, and right next to her ear. She took a moment to breathe, to relish the feelings of his arms warmly wrapped around her. But afraid of staying there too long, she nodded after a few seconds, and pulled herself away.

"Just got up too fast I think."

"Absolutely. I think you should go home though. Getting stitched up for the first time is never pleasant, is it Porthos?" Aramis turned wide, innocent eyes to Porthos, and grinned when he blushed a little.

"Not it isn't. You should go home d'Artagnan."

So Porthos' first stitched injury was definitely something she was going to have to ask about.

She put up no protest about going home. She had no desire to stay and watch someone being given the opportunity she was dying for. Hopefully Constance would be at home and she could distract herself with some time in her friend's company.

Athos walked beside her as she descended the stairs outside, and right across the yard to the gate, where he finally stopped.

"We'll see you tomorrow d'Artagnan." She said her goodbye and walked away, pausing only when he called to her. "Perhaps next time you'll take the sensible option, eh?"

She blushed and turned away. He was right though. Next time pain would come after pride, not before.

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Constance was indeed home when d'Artagnan arrived, gasping aloud when she saw her friend's pale face, and grimacing at the ripped, bloodstained sleeve, and the bloody jacket she still carried after putting it on proved too awkward with her stitches for the moment.

Charline was quickly seated at the kitchen table with food and drink in front of her, while Constance fluttered about her like a mother hen. D'Artagnan wanted to laugh a little, but it was actually quite nice to be looked after for a change.

The fluttering abruptly stopped and her voice was suddenly less soothing when d'Artagnan explained what had happened.

"They did this on purpose? And you let them?!" Her words were punctuated by a slap round the back of the head.

"Hey!"

"Yes, well. You said you wanted to be treated like one of them, and if they were here that's what I'd do so, yes." Constance flustered a little, but slapped Charline again when she started to laugh at her.

"Ow! Alright, alright."

"Hmph," Constance sat down at the table with a thump, pulling d'Artagnan's wine away from her and helping herself.

"Look I know it was stupid, but it was the only option. I backed myself into this mess by pointing out that nobody would believe I didn't fight for it," she shrugged.

"Stupid is most definitely the right word! And I'll be telling those friends of yours exactly the same thing."

Charline grinned at the thought of the telling off Constance was sure to give them.

"So you're not going back to the barracks today?"

D'Artagnan blinked at the sudden change in topic. "Um, no."

"And they won't be round to get you?"

"The trials are in a couple of hours. They said they would see me tomorrow."

"Excellent," Constance clapped her hands as she was suddenly overcome with excitement. "Come on!" She stood and grabbed d'Artagnan by the hand, thankfully on her non-stitched arm, and pulled her up from the table and out of the room.

"Where are we going?"

"There's something I want to do, want to see. And now seems like the perfect time."

Charline found herself being pulled up the stairs to her room, and thrust abruptly inside. Without explaining herself, Constance left again, leaving her standing stupidly in the middle of the room for several minutes, before she was suddenly back with her arms full of clothes.

"No, no, no," D'Artagnan gaped at her mildly horrified.

"Yes, yes, yes! I want to see you, properly. Please?" Constance did her best impression of the d'Artagnan puppy eyes.

With a groan of despair, she melted under the gaze of her friend. She often felt bad for Constance, trapped in marriage that kept her secure but with no real excitement in her life. How could she deny her friend a little bit of amusement.

"Fine. But just this once, and just because nobody is here."

With a grin that would have shamed her God-fearing mother, Constance set to work. She removed d'Artagnan's shirt and trousers, laughing at the sight of her friend in her men's underwear and her chest wrapped firmly in bandages.

"Does that not hurt?" she gestured to d'Artagnan's chest.

Charline glanced down at herself and shrugged. "I don't really think about it anymore, it's just become habit to do it every morning. It's a bit of a relief to remove them at night I suppose," she grinned up at Constance. "It might be a bit difficult to explain if I didn't strap them down though!"

Constance looked her over for a minute. "Right, wash yourself and put on these clean underclothes. I'll bring up some warmer water and we'll wash your hair, then get you into one of these dresses." With that she was gone, and d'Artagnan hastily stripped off her undergarments and bandages, scrubbing the dirt from her skin with the water that remained in her jug from that morning, still warm from sitting in the sunshine beside the open shutter.

By the time Constance returned she was dressed in her friend's stockings, bloomers and petticoat, waiting patiently for the next stage. "You look different already," Constance said with a smile. "Come on."

She obeyed every instruction she was given over the next two hours, allowing Constance to wash her hair carefully, then towel dry it in the sunlight, brushing it carefully all the while. They talked for a long time, about Gascony, about the musketeers, about Athos. They even talked about Bonacieux, which was unusual. Finally dry, Charline allowed Constance to pin her hair up, hiding the carelessly maintained boy cut and making her look and feel as if she had long hair once again.

Then came the final stage – the dress.

She chose a green dress, one of the ones she had often admired when Constance wore it. She stepped into the skirt, feeling stranger by the second. It wasn't long before the corset was fully tightened and the transformation from Charles to Charline was complete.

"Oh my goodness d'Art. You are absolutely beautiful!" Constance came to stand in front of her, looking her up and down with tears in her eyes. "I knew you would be, but I never could have pictured this. Come and see."

Again she was being dragged by the hand, this time into Constance's room where there was a long looking glass that she was shoved in front of. She gaped at herself.

"You see?" Constance was grinning beside her like a fool.

And she actually did see. She actually felt beautiful.

Her dark hair was simply but elegantly swept back from her forehead, gathered at the back of her head with just a few tendrils left to frame her face. The tendrils also made her dark eyes stand out in her sallow skin, resting above her noticeable cheekbones and naturally pink lips. Glancing further down, she saw how nicely the green of the gown sat against her smooth skin, her breasts, briefly freed then bound once again in the corset, lifted to make them stand out a little, and highlight her narrow waist.

She was indeed beautiful.

Without thinking, she reached up to touch her hair, reaching round behind her head to see how Constance had pinned it. She felt a sharp pull on her arm and snapped it back down to her side, hissing in pain.

"Oh wait," Constance grabbed her and lifted her arm gently and checked the stitches she had just agitated. "They're still intact, just, but there is a little blood. You'll need to get Aramis to check them again tomorrow."

She moved towards the door. "I'll go and get a cloth to stop the blood."

D'Artagnan was once again left to gaze at herself in the mirror. She didn't feel bad about doing it, when else was she going to see herself like this?

She felt something tickling her arm and looked down to see a tiny trickle of blood making its way down towards her elbow. She didn't want to touch it in case she got it on any of Constance's clothes, so she hurried down the stairs to catch her.

"Constance? It's running down my arm, I didn't want it to-"

She skidded to a halt as she reached the bottom of the stairs. How had she not heard the door?

For there, standing in the hallway having clearly just been let in the house, was a stunned Athos. 


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N Wow! Thank you so much for the reviews for the last chapter! It really does help keep me going, so thank you fariedragon, Arianka, obh614, Ryoma 2014, Annerizu-san, Carol J Forrester, Dani Malfoy Granger, asia and lovely guest, whoever you are (I'm glad I helped brighten your day!) Cliffhangers are evil, I know, but they are marvellous tools, so it won't be the last, I'm warning you now! ;)_

_OhGod-ohGod-ohGod-ohGod-ohGod-ohGod!_ This was all that ran through d'Artagnan's head for a few moments as she and Athos came to a standstill. Her face was fighting off a blush that threatened to turn her scarlet, and he was frozen with that stunned look on his face. Obviously, neither of them had a clue what to do next.

A series of questions started pouring over themselves while Charline's eyes were still locked with Athos'. _Do I speak? Do I run? Why is he looking at me like that? Why isn't he saying anything? Should I pretend nothing is different? Should I say something? Should I turn and run? Why is nobody saying anything?_

Constance was the first to shake herself of the stupor that had taken over all three of them at once.

"Athos. Come in to the kitchen. D'Artagnan, come and get cleaned up please."

She had spoken in a way that left no room for argument, or suggested that anything was at all out of place. They both did as they were bid to, meekly.

D'Artagnan walked right past the table that Athos moved towards, keeping her back to him as she took a cloth from Constance and began to clean the trickle of blood from her arm, inspecting the stitches closely as if it hadn't already been done.

"Was there a reason for your visit?" Constance was still the only calm person in the room.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, I-, well, I came to check on d'Artagnan first and foremost, to check that there were no more repercussions."

Even with her back to them she could feel the stare Constance was levelling at Athos. "She's right there. You can ask her you know." A hint of amusement had crept into her voice.

"Well?" his voice was suddenly gruff as he addressed her directly, and she turned to look at him in surprise.

He was now looking at her coldly, so coldly that a she couldn't suppress a shudder that ran through her. "I'm fine," she whispered.

"Evidently."

He stared at her a moment more, before snapping his eyes away from her. "I should go. I came to fill you in on the events of the trials, but you are obviously busy with other things."

With that he swept out of the room, not looking at her again as he left. D'Artagnan's knees suddenly gave out and she grasped onto a chair in front of her, pulling it out to sit down as Constance rushed to her side, tears evident in her eyes.

"Oh Charline, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault, I should never have made you do this." She wrapped her arms tightly around d'Artagnan from behind her, a hand coming up to grip the arm crossed over her chest.

"I have to go." She pushed Constance's comforting arms away from her, pushing herself away from her friend and running out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room.

She immediately began pulling the pins from her hair, dry, heaving sobs wracking her as she destroyed the image that Constance had created. Hair loose, she reached her arms behind her and tried frantically to pull the ribbons that held the corset tight to her torso. She started to panic as she realised she couldn't reach and she yelled in frustration.

Suddenly, soft hands were at her back. "Here, let me," Constance said, calmly undoing the ties and releasing her from the constraint. As the bones loosened around her ribs she began to take in shaky breaths, at the same time as she was tearing Constance's clothes from her.

"D'Artagnan! Stop this," Constance sounded frightened as she placed her hands on Charline's, stopping her briefly. "You need to calm down."

"I need to speak to him!" She was shouting, but not angrily.

"And say what exactly? Sorry that you saw the real me?" Constance shouted back.

This time there was anger. "It's not his fault! He can't help the way he feels."

Constance shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "He can help his behaviour d'Artagnan, he can. The way he looked at you, I-"

"Please, don't," d'Artagnan dropped onto the bed. "Don't remind me. And don't think badly of him, please. There are things you don't know, that I can't tell you. Just, trust me."

"If he knowingly hurts you I won't forgive him," she said firmly.

"He won't," d'Artagnan looked her friend straight in the eye. "He will never know how I feel, so he will never know the hurt that I feel that he cannot love me back."

Constance sat down beside her. "You make me so sad sometimes. I don't understand why you have resigned yourself to being unhappy, to never getting what you want."

"I can't tell you about him, I can't break the tiny bit of trust he has left me with."

"I know. I would never ask you to, just, well I know what it can be to settle for a life you are not happy with."

D'Artagnan reached over and squeezed her friend's hand. "I'm alright."

Constance snorted. "Of course you are."

She smiled at the sarcasm, then sighed. "What do I do?"

"Buggered if I know sweetheart," a shrug. "Leave him tonight. Speak to him tomorrow, then take it from there. It's all I can think of."

"I suppose so. I don't know what I would say just now anyway."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, d'Artagnan staring into space while Constance played with the ribbons of the abandoned corset lying on the bed beside her.

"Do you really have no hope?"

"None, Constance. He, well he has reason not to like or trust women very much, and that's all I'll say. No. The most I can hope for is to be his friend."

"Hmm."

"Hmm, what?"

"I just thought you would have more fight in you that that, that's all."

D'Artagnan laughed. "He's even more stubborn than I am Constance, there's nothing to fight for."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," she stood and gathered the clothes scattered around the room then headed to the door. "Just remember that the sight of you stunned him into silence, and he's got a whole night of wallowing to get the image of you in that dress stamped into his mind."

With a wink she left the room, closing the door behind her softly. D'Artagnan shook her head after her. Ludicrous. There was no way that Athos was going to see her like that, she had come to terms with it. Sort of.

No, what she needed to be thinking about was how to approach him tomorrow when she saw him at the barracks.

She lay back on the bed, still clad in Constance's underclothes, and settled herself in for another long night.

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Dawn had only been an hour or two away when she finally dropped off to sleep, so she arrived at the barracks the next morning in a rush, slightly dishevelled and looking like she had had even less sleep than she'd managed.

"Oh my," Aramis greeted her as she slid into her seat opposite him. "You look delightful this morning."

"Shut up." She didn't even bother to glare at him, but watched as he exchanged a grin with Porthos.

"Charming too. Trouble sleeping?"

"Well, it's difficult to get comfortable when you've got a throbbing arm keeping you awake."

She felt bad when she saw a look of guilt fleetingly cross his face. "Sorry Aramis, I didn't mean it. I'm just grumpy this morning. My choice, remember?"

"Here, have some breakfast." Porthos pushed a bowl of food towards her, which she took with a smile of thanks.

"Aramis, could you check my stitches this morning please?" she asked between bites. "I may have, um, pulled it a bit when I got home yesterday."

"Sure," he raised one eyebrow. "What have you been doing?"

She ignored his question and continued eating, earning herself a wink from him.

"Where's Athos?"

"With the captain. Talking about the challenge I imagine," said Porthos.

"Oh yes!" she dropped the bowl she had just picked up. "What happened with the trials?"

Porthos and Aramis looked at her strangely.

"Didn't Athos tell you?" Porthos asked.

"Oh, he told you he was coming round then. Well, um, no he didn't. He didn't stay long."

Aramis looked at her even more quizzically than before. "Well, the captain is doing it himself."

"He's what?" she gaped at them.

Porthos was looking at her with concern. "He went out yesterday, while we were stitching you up I think, and when he came back he announced that he was doing it himself. The men weren't happy."

Aramis chuckled dryly. "To say the least."

"But why? Why would he do that?"

"Because the cardinal has recruited Labarge as a red guard and is using him as their champion." Aramis was blunt when Porthos looked like he didn't want to say it.

"He did what? He recruited that thug!? He burned down my farm!" She was fuming.

"We know, we know. Athos wasn't exactly happy about it, neither was the captain."

Obviously this was what Athos had come by to tell her the night before. She realised, of course, the implications of the Labarge in the Cardinal Richelieu's command. If he mentioned the name d'Artagnan...

"Here comes Athos," Aramis nodded to the stairs causing the other two to look round, and sure enough here he was coming towards them. D'Artagnan's heart began to beat wildly in her chest.

"Porthos, Aramis, we are to accompany the captain to the palace to set the terms for the challenge, which will take place later today." He spoke abruptly, and immediately turned to leave.

Porthos frowned. "What about d'Artagnan?" he shouted after Athos' retreating back, while Aramis was eyeing her curiously.

"D'Artagnan will stay at the barracks." He barely paused to answer, and didn't even look round before walking on towards the stables.

Aramis whistled as he disappeared from sight. "Oh dear. He didn't even glance in your direction! What the hell did you do?" He was looking at her in amazement.

"D'Art? Is everything alright?" Porthos' concern was evident.

She shook her head violently – no, everything was not alright. Breathlessly, she told them in a whisper what had happened the night before.

The musketeers shared a glance. "We need to sort this Aramis, he can't go on like this."

"I know."

"What? No, don't do anything!" she began to panic. "It's my fault, don't get yourselves involved, please." She couldn't bear the thought of a rift forming between these brothers because of her.

"We are involved d'Artagnan," Aramis dismissed her concerns. "You are one of us, and we cannot continue this way."

"We will just talk to him, that's all," Porthos agreed.

She felt warmed by the care they were offering her, but she could not let them deal with it for her. "No, it's fine. I'll speak to him myself, I will. Please do nothing, unless I ask you to."

"Are you sure?" Aramis asked doubtfully.

She nodded. "I'll speak to him tonight."

They each clapped a hand on her shoulder as they left to follow Athos to the stables, leaving her to wait miserably for the day on their return. She couldn't explain to them why she understood Athos' difficulty in what had happened the night before, but she would keep her promise and speak to him that night. However difficult it was going to be.

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She waited long after the end of her normal day, finding jobs to do to fill the time before her musketeers and the captain arrived back. It had already been amongst the longest days she had experienced, with the hours slowly creeping by and giving her plenty of time to torture herself with her thoughts.

She had quite quickly decided the she would have her conversation with Athos here. He could not ignore her plea if she asked to speak to him in front of the others. Neutral ground was what she needed, because she was terrified.

And angry.

Understanding Athos' reaction to the sight of her in the dress was not difficult, but that didn't mean that she wasn't angry that he found it so easy to be cold to her, to dismiss her as if she meant nothing to any of them.

She wasn't even sure she had a right to be angry, but following her temper had always been her way, so she figured that this occasion should be no different.

The rest of the afternoon had been spent praying that she would not blurt out something she did not want to in her anger.

For the last hour or so she had been assisting the stable boys in mucking out the horses, polishing the tack and generally tidying up. The evening shift of musketeers had long since arrived and were engaged in a variety of jobs already, so she decided to send the stable boys home and finish the work herself. Idleness was not her friend this evening.

She had just finished the last of the saddles and hung it in its rightful place when she heard hooves entering the yard. One horse?

She exited the stables and made her way into the yard, wondering who had come back ahead of the party. In the gloom of the approaching twilight she saw the man alighting from his horse and, on spotting her, making his way towards her.

This man was no musketeer.

"Can I help you sir?" She was uneasy, and suddenly aware of the fact that she had removed her sword earlier while working in the stables, and that was where it still lay.

He continued to approach her silently, looking her up and down as he walked.

She swallowed. "Declare yourself sir, before you find yourself surrounded by musketeers." She stuck out her chin and stood strong, trying not to think about the size of this man in front of her. With sudden dread, she was hit with the sudden knowledge of who this man was.

He grinned at her. "Young d'Artagnan, we meet at last." He was nearly beside her now, his hand gently resting on the handle of the pistol at his waist.

"Labarge I presume?"

"Correct boy, correct."

If she had been frozen in fear she may have been relieved that at least her secret appeared safe. She went to speak, but stopped when his pistol was suddenly raised in her direction, his other hand raised with a finger to his lips.

"Now, let me get a good look at you boy." The pistol didn't drop until he was right next to her, circling her in a predatory fashion as he appraised her. "You don't look much like him, that's true. But that proud stance, that stubborn belied that you are more than you are? That's Alexandre d'Artagnan through and through."

Her knees began to quiver slightly as thoughts of escape whirled quickly through her mind. How was he even here?

"I couldn't believe it when she told me where to find you. Here, under my nose, or under the nose of the bastard Treville. So simple."

"She?"

"Ah, so you don't know of your admirer? A fascinating woman, quite intrigued by you and your relationship with these _musketeers_," he spat the word at her. "Strange she should be so interested, yet free me from the cardinal's custody knowing I would come to kill you. But no matter. She did, and I am here."

D'Artagnan was frantically trying to take all of this in, and trying not to focus on the very real possibility that she would be dead in the next few moments.

"So now I must simply decide how to kill you. The pistol seems a little too easy, don't you think?"

He tucked the weapon back into his waistband. She glanced down and was relieved to see that he had no sword. No time to grab one as he escaped, she presumed.

Her voice was cool as she spoke. "So it's to be a hand to hand fight is it?"

He laughed cruelly at her. "No fight boy, just your destruction."

With that he lunged at her making a grab for her head, but she was ready for him and twisted from his grasp, grabbing his wrist as it passed her and sinking her teeth deeply into him.

He roared in surprise and pain, giving her a moment of relief as the noise was sure to attract attention. As he grabbed at his bloodied wrist, she danced out of his reach and ran towards the door into the mess, where help would be found. She was almost there when she was grabbed from behind and spun round and pushed into the table, the one she usually sat at with her friends. The surprised yelp she gave as he caught her was quickly cut off as he wrapped a large hand around her neck and squeezed. He was behind her, his other arm clamped around her and his legs pressing hers into the bench, not giving her an inch to move.

"Much as I'd love to see your face at this moment, I believe I will enjoy choking you to death nice and slowly," he whispered into her ear.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she struggled to breathe. She tried to grab onto a single thought as her mind slowly began to darken. Her lungs were burning as she scrabbled desperately at his hand with her fingers, sobs rising up but having nowhere to go.

Her vision was beginning to darken round the edges. No one had heard. No one was coming.

She closed her eyes, tears falling down her face as she accepted her fate.

She was only dimly aware of the sound of pounding hooves as her vision faded to black.

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"D'Artagnan, wake up. Breathe for me d'Artagnan, please."

The voice was soft, but desperate in its pleading. She choked as she tried to take a breath, coughing uncontrollably as her lungs tried to fill themselves.

"That's it, come on. Keep breathing."

She felt herself moving, and suddenly realised she had been lying down and was now being pulled up by a pair of strong arms to sit, helping her lungs. But they couldn't fill up properly. Why could she not take a deep breath?

She began to take short, shallow breaths. Easier, and possible.

A hand began to stroke her hair, while the voice continued to murmur encouragement to her.

_What had happened?_

Slowly she opened her eyes, her mind finally beginning to focus on where she was, and what had occurred. She began to struggle in panic.

"Labarge!" she choked out, but the arms held her firm.

"Stop it, everything's alright. Just breathe. Calm down."

She obeyed the command in the voice and stopped struggling, concentrating on her shallow breaths. She realised that she was being held in a hug, seated on the bed in the same room she had been stitched up in the day before. Her cheek was resting against the bearded cheek of the man who held her. She focused for a second and listened to his voice.

"You're fine, just breathe. Keep breathing d'Artagnan," the voice was whispering, still an element of desperation in it, and she felt a strong wave of emotion as she realised two things at once.

Firstly, the man who held her was trying to convince himself that she was alright, not her.

Secondly, the man who held her was Athos.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N Oh my! Lots of lovely reviews, and very quickly too! I've written this chapter pretty quickly in response, so please forgive any errors._

_Thank you NavigatorNami85, Awesome-Sauce-Eater (nice to see you back!), Mazcotmaker, obh614 (the ending of this chapter is a gift for you...), Little Sulky Void (thank you!), fariedragon, Dani Malfoy Granger (the ending is for you too...), Annerizu-san (lots more interaction in this one, promise!) and kitkat84! I really do appreciate you taking the time to let me know how I'm doing. Hopefully you'll enjoy this one too! _

_Banana x_

**Chapter 11**

She let her arms slowly creep around him until she was holding him back. She buried her head into his shoulder, taking the opportunity to be as close to him as she possibly could. To her surprise he didn't move away. He just held onto her, keeping her still as she continued to catch her breath.

They stayed like this until the door opened softly, but even then he didn't let go of her completely. She didn't move her head from where it was pressed into his neck but she felt his head twist round above her to look at the door.

"It's done. The captain wants to see you." Aramis' voice came into the room softly. She felt Athos nod above her, and then heard the door close quietly.

"D'Artagnan," he began to loosen his hold on her and she followed suit. "I have to go, but I will be back as soon as I can. Are you alright for now?"

She pulled back from him completely and nodded. She watched his face carefully, looking for any sign of what he was feeling, but he was staring at her neck, a look of cold fury filling his face. Without saying anything else he stood and walked from the room.

She couldn't stop the grin that spread over her face as he left. He didn't hate her! No matter how angry she had made him, or now hurt he had been, she now had proof that he cared. She was going to hold onto this moment for a long time. She didn't expect she'd see another like it, not unless she nearly died again, and she didn't particularly want to do that.

Quickly, she pulled her shirt from her trousers and reached up underneath it to loosen the bandage that wrapped around her chest and as still stopping her from taking a deep breath. Pain hit her sharply when her lungs were finally free and she filled them with a gasp. She forced herself to keep breathing deeply, the pain lessening with every exhale.

A knock at the door startled her, but she called out a welcome to whoever it was, then smiled at Porthos and Aramis as they both stuck their heads into the room with a grin. She welcomed them with a gesture and pulled herself back to sit against the wall at the head of the bed she was still resting on. Porthos pulled over the stool from the corner of the room and placed it and himself next to the bed. Aramis, with slightly less delicacy, threw himself onto the bed beside her, lounging across it and leaning against the wall that ran along its length.

"That's gonna hurt like hell for a bit," Porthos said.

"What is?" she asked. Her voice was raspy.

Aramis chuckled. "That. And your actual throat, it looks bruised already."

Her hands moved to her neck and sure enough the flesh was tender. That must have been what Athos had been staring at, such anger in his face. Another sign that he cared.

"What are you smiling at?" Aramis poked her in the leg and she quickly rearranged her face.

"Nothing."

"Are you alright? He didn't hurt you anywhere else?" Porthos' eyes roamed over her, looking for some sign of hidden injury.

"No, he didn't," she shook her head. "I'm alright."

"Did he know, you know, about you?"

Her head shook again. "He called be 'boy' a few times, so I think we're safe. What happened to him? Actually, just what happened with everything?"

She sat comfortably and listened while her big brothers took it in turn to fill her in on the events of the day, starting from the beginning of the contest.

Treville had bested Labarge easily with pistols, which only made the brute angry. When it came to swords, he didn't play fairly and managed to catch the captain on the arm with a sly shot. When the captain appeared unable to go on, Athos had stepped in as his second, and had beaten Labarge at his own game. For a second, as Athos stood above Labarge with his sword poised in triumph over him, Aramis claimed that it looked as though the musketeer was going to make it a fight to the death, but after a moment he had stepped back, and Aramis and Porthos had taken him into custody, locking him up securely before heading back to the captain and Athos.

D'Artagnan jumped in eagerly when they said they could not understand how he had gotten out, remembering suddenly of this 'admirer' Labarge had spoken of, and ignoring the sinking feeling she got when she realised that this was something else they would now need to deal with.

"It's how he knew I was here as well, he said this woman told him where to find me."

"No mention of who she was, or why the interest?" Aramis asked.

She shrugged and all three of them shared a glance of concern.

"Then what?"

They would come back to this mystery later.

"Then it was time to leave, after the king had gone over every detail of events in excited detail, and that's when we found Labarage was missing."

Porthos explained that they had found his cell empty, and two guards out cold nearby. One of them was missing a pistol. They quickly established that a horse had also gone missing, and quickly mounted to set off after him.

The picture Porthos painted was vivid. As they were leaving to follow him, Aramis had asked where they thought he might go. Athos' face had gone ashen as he had whispered her name, and all four of them had instantly spurred their horses on and rode to the barracks as fast as they could, Athos leading the charge.

When the four of them had ridden into the yard they had seen her instantly, wilting, eyes closed and choking around the hand that Labarge had pressed against her throat. Aramis had immediately lifted his pistol and taken a shot at Labarge, hitting him in the shoulder and forcing him to drop her. Porthos had run at him and grabbed him, twisting him away from her as Athos had bolted to her side, lifted her unconscious body and run up the stairs to move her from harm's way.

Labarge had been overcome fairly quickly by Aramis and Porthos, while the captain had headed into the mess, yelling for musketeers.

"Is he dead?"

"He is."

"Which one of you got the bastard?"

The two musketeers grinned at each other. "We both did."

Two swords at the same time. He hadn't stood a chance.

"The captain appeared again just as we finished him. He was furious, but mostly that no one had been there to help you," Aramis finished their tale.

D'Artagnan shrugged, not willing to blame anyone for what had happened other than Labarge himself. "Everyone was busy. It was all very quick, and very quiet. Nobody's fault."

Aramis grinned at her. "You may have to work hard to convince the captain of that."

"And Athos," added Porthos.

She blushed at his words, but ducked her head to hide it from them. She still couldn't quite believe the way he had held her, or the description of him running to her and lifting her away from danger, leaving the fight to the others. She was trying not to get carried away with her thoughts of what it might mean he could possibly feel for her. She was trying to not kid herself.

"So what of this woman then?" Porthos asked, after a few moments of silence.

Relieved at the change of subject, d'Artagnan lifted her head and looked at him eagerly. "I have no idea. I can't think who it could be. Labarge just said she had some sort of obsession with me."

Aramis laughed. "She might get a fright if she gets too close."

She leaned forward and cuffed him round the back of the head, laughing at him. "No, no I don't think it's like that, well not entirely. According to Labarge she's 'obsessed', but also very interested in my relationship with the three of you." She shrugged.

Neither of them could anything that resembled an answer to the puzzle.

"Oh, he also said that she set him free knowing that he was coming to try and kill me."

Porthos and Aramis both suddenly had deep frowns on their faces.

"We need to get Athos.," Porthos got to his feet suddenly, moving towards the door, but was beaten to it when it opened from the outside and Athos entered.

He took one look at the faces of his fellow musketeers and frowned. "What's going on?"

Aramis spoke casually, without moving from his position on the bed. "It would appear that one of the four of us has an enemy."

"More likely, one of the three of us," Porthos added.

"Another one?" Athos asked dryly, entering the room and closing the door. His eyes flickered to Charline, once more alighting on her neck, before he dragged the other stool over and sat beside Porthos.

"This one led Labarge to d'Artagnan," Porthos looked at her sadly while he spoke. She smiled weakly back at him.

"What do you mean?" Athos' voice was suddenly sharp, and he was looking at her for an explanation. Quickly, she gave him the same information she had shared with the others.

"Shit. One of us then. Or all of us." Athos lifted his head to look at the ceiling in frustration.

Aramis answered her confused expression. "If she has an interest in your relationship with us but sent him here to kill you, then evidently hurting one or all of us was the aim of this little incident."

How did she keep doing this? How did she keep making life so difficult for these men? Her face must have shown her despair, because Aramis' hand was suddenly resting on the knee that was bent up beside where he was lounging.

"Not your fault. And not the first time one or more of us has pissed someone off so much," he smiled at her.

"Really?" she smiled back, trying to joke with him. "Have you jilted someone lately? Rejected some dangerous lady, heaven forbid?"

He cuffed her knee the same way she had done to his head earlier and rolled his eyes at her.

"This is going to take some time to work out. Perhaps a fortnight out of Paris may help?"

"What, are you going to take us all to your château for a holiday Athos?" Porthos nudged him, grinning, but d'Artagnan saw how the man flinched at the reminder of his former home. He hadn't yet told either of them anything about that night.

She also noticed that he avoided catching her eye as he ignored Porthos' question.

"The Queen is to take some time in the country and has asked for an escort. She asked for us specifically, in fact, so we are to accompany her as of tomorrow," he looked at d'Artagnan. "I have asked that d'Artagnan be allowed to accompany us, and the captain agreed."

He smiled at her slightly, which she answered with a smile of her own. Some time alone with them could be just what she needed to show him that he had nothing to fear from trusting her again.

"Excellent," said Aramis. "A little time away from Paris could give us some time in safety, to try and work out who the hell this person could be."

"And some time to concentrate on d'Artagnan's training," grinned Porthos.

Fantastic. The intense training sessions they like to put her through were always exhausting, and always left her bruised and sore.

But she was relieved to know that they still planned to train her, despite the knowledge that she would never be a musketeer.

"Looking forward to it," she said, grinning back at him.

"Come on, it's late," said Athos, standing up.

Aramis practically leapt from the bed. "Drinks gentlemen? I think we should toast the end of Labarge, don't you?"

Porthos agreed eagerly, but d'Artagnan shook her head. "Not tonight Aramis. I just want to get home I think, forget this day ever happened."

"Are you sure?" Porthos was looking at her in a way that told her this was not the question he wanted to ask, so she answered the one that wasn't asked.

"I'm fine Porthos, honestly. I'm just tired." She smiled at them all reassuringly as they all looked at her with the same concern on their faces. She rolled her eyes when their expressions didn't change. What she really wanted to do was get home and bathe, removing any trace of Labarge from her now throbbing neck. Besides, her voice was still painfully rough, and she was sure she had a few bruises in other places from where he had held her. She wasn't going to tell them any of that, not with Aramis in such a buoyant mood. She would get enough teasing from him on their journey out of Paris.

Athos rescued her. "Not too late a night please, we leave first thing for the palace."

"Are you not coming?" Aramis asked from the door, which he and Porthos had already reached.

"Not tonight," Athos shook his head. "There is preparation to be done."

"Suit yourself," shrugged Aramis, before he and Porthos bid them a cheerful goodbye and headed out.

D'Artagnan suddenly realised she was still seated on the bed, in a room alone with Athos, when he turned to look at her. Blushing slightly, she clambered off the bed gracelessly until she was standing before him, trying to ignore his obvious amusement as he watched her.

"Well d'Artagnan," he held out her jacket and hat to her, which she had just realised he had been carrying when he came back into the room. He must have fetched it from the stables where she left it. She smiled at him, feeling slightly fuzzy in the thought that he had spent his time looking for her belongings. "Home?"

She nodded, turning slightly to make a move towards the door, but he got there before her, holding it open as she walked through it, then lengthening his stride to catch her after he closed it and accompany her back down the stairs into the yard. He was treating her like a girl, but she somehow found herself not caring very much at all.

At the bottom of the steps she found came to a sudden stop, her left foot suspended in mid air before it touched the flat of the yard. She saw out of the corner of her eye as Athos stopped as he realised she was no longer beside him, but she was focused on the large, dark patch of ground in front of her. It was still wet.

The place where Labarge had died, she presumed. She couldn't explain what had made her stop, or why she was so reluctant to move. For some reason the sight of his blood, or the wet patch from where a cleanup attempt had been made, had frozen her completely and she couldn't walk any further. She couldn't walk through it, despite knowing how silly she was being.

She could feel Athos watching her calmly, from the middle of the wet patch of ground. "D'Artagnan?" he called on her softly.

She just shook her head, still staring at the ground in front of her and not moving.

She didn't move, in fact, until she suddenly felt a pair of hands clasping her under her arms and lifting her quickly. She looked up to see Athos gazing at her in understanding as he took a few steps, carrying her over the sodden ground and depositing her softly on the other side.

"Better?" he asked as he let her go. She nodded back.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I just, I couldn't. I have no idea why."

"Come on," he said, walking towards the gate, but waiting for her to move and come alongside him before setting the pace. They walked in silence for a few moments; until d'Artagnan pointed out that he was going in completely the wrong direction for his home.

"You are still in shock; I would not be doing my duty as a musketeer if I did not see you home safely."

She snorted at his overly-stiff tone, laughing a little as he turned to look at her with one eyebrow raised.

"Sorry," she said. "Sometimes you take me by surprise with your formal tone, when it appears for no reason."

He turned his eyes away from her and kept walking, making her suddenly aware of how stupidly she had spoken. Everything Athos did always had a reason behind it, and perhaps his sudden changes of tone were more to do with keeping his thoughts private and his emotions in check than anything else.

"So where are we going?" she asked, changing the subject. She noticed that he relaxed instantly beside her. "With the Queen I mean?"

"We'll get our orders when we get to the palace, but I imagine we'll be going South into the country. She usually goes out of Paris at this time of year, combining her charities with a break from the palace."

Charline grinned broadly. A visit to the countryside! It felt an age since she had seen anywhere other than the city or the towns nearby. A couple of months at least.

She began to chatter at Athos, a resounding account of the all the good that the country air would do for them. She was aware that she was talking incessantly, but when she looked at him Athos was smiling to himself, so he obviously had no problem with it.

All too soon the door of the Bonacieux residence was in front of them, and Athos paused as they reached it. She drew herself to a stop, and turned to face him.

"I shall assume that you can make it from here d'Artagnan," he smiled at her.

"I should hope so, otherwise I am no use to the musketeers at all," she smiled back. Inside, her mind was screaming at her, pointing out to her eagerly that they were conversing normally, like friends once more.

"Put a cool cloth on your neck. You must keep the swelling down," he frowned at her injuries yet again.

"I will."

He looked up at her face once more, tipping his hat in jest. "Goodnight, d'Artagnan."

"Goodnight."

She watched him as he walked away from her, and then suddenly couldn't hold her tongue anymore.

"Athos?"

He stopped to look at her.

"Thank you." For saving me, she wanted to add. For carrying me to safety. For caring.

She said none of it, but he looked at her for a few moments, then nodded his head once before turning once more and melting into the shadows of a nearby alley.

It was another full minute before she could pull herself away from where she stood staring after him, until she suddenly realised that with an unknown danger around he was probably standing in the darkness watching her to make sure she was safe. She blushed furiously, spinning around and opening the door quickly, closing it firmly once she was inside.

She allowed herself to lean back against the door, a stupid smile on her face as she indulged for a moment in her fantasies of what she could somehow make Athos feel for her. She remembered waking up in his embrace, the panic in his voice as he commanded her to breathe. She pulled her hat from her head, running her fingers softly into her hair as she closed her eyes and remembered the feel of his strong hands doing the same thing earlier that evening.

Two whole weeks with him; she was hopeful something good would come of it. Even if it was that they returned to Paris as close as they had seemed to be this evening.

Whistling softly, she made her way further into the house to search for a cloth to cool and place on her neck.

Suddenly it felt like the best advice she had ever been given.

_A/N Look, no cliffhanger! I nearly did as well, but I changed my mind. ;-)_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N Sorry it took so long! I have a vague idea where I am going for the next couple of chapters, so hopefully they won't take too long. I'm not 100% with this chapter I don't think, but I didn't want you to have to wait too long while I dithered about it. I'm almost happy with it. I think!_

_Tianne – Thank you so much for your fabulously extensive (and quick!) review, and your truly humbling praise. I really hope you continue to enjoy my little story as much as you have so far!_

_Guest – whoever you may, thank you! I'm glad you like it!_

_Mazcotmaker – More you shall have! Thank you._

_Dani – Hopefully you enjoy the emotion in here too! It's not all going to be too easy, obviously..._

_Obh614 – Thank you! It's nice to know I have such a sweet side, lol. Hopefully this was worth the wait!_

_Annerizu-san – Wow! Thanks. I'm really glad you like it!_

_Guest – Sorry you had to wait so long! I'm glad I have hooked you in though... ;)_

**Chapter 12**

The first week of their time away went almost without incident. In fact, Porthos and Aramis' fight after the former almost stabbed the latter when polishing the swords was the only thing of note that happened.

It was bliss.

For the first day they rode out of Paris. A small procession consisting of the three musketeers, d'Artagnan, a single carriage carrying the queen and two maids. They were heading for the King's small summer home in Étampes, where the Queen liked to spend some time every summer, bestowing her charity on the residents of the small town and the farmlands around it.

The ride was long and the maids insisted that the queen rested regularly, which the others were more than happy to oblige. The Queen, it seemed, was keen on avoiding inns and towns and their journey took them through a large amount of the countryside, and afforded them many views of the beauty of unspoiled France. She even insisted that they camp for the one night they needed to spend before reaching Étampes, informing them that she planned to spend several nights in this way in a secluded spot on their return.

This announcement was the first moment of dread that d'Artagnan had encountered about the whole trip. She hadn't thought in advance about sleeping arrangements or how she would wash, assuming that they would be staying in grand houses, or at the very least an inn. For the first night she knew she would get thought it without any major incident, but for the week they would spend at the house in Étampes she knew she would be worrying about how she would cope with the return journey. She didn't exactly relish the thought of getting dirtier and smellier by the day in the company of the Queen. Or the company of Athos, if she was wholly honest with herself.

The musketeers had not brought a tent with them as they had slept on the open ground on many occasions. This gave d'Artagnan some relief, as she would simply take her spot on the floor next to them and that would be that. They had shared lodgings on several occasions before, but half of the time they had separate rooms, and when forced to share she had simply offered to take a space on the floor. Now that her friends knew the truth about her she was sure the process would be much more awkward than it had been in the past.

She just had to hope that the sleeping arrangements in Étampes would be easily solved.

Watching Athos and Porthos trying to build the Queen's tent while she went for a short walk proved to be hilarious. As she had insisted on only travelling with a limited number of maids, the Queen had brought no manservant to build it for her. The coachmen had stepped forward to help, but were dispatched by the Queen to take some letters on to the nearest town. They would return for the party in the morning. A coin toss had seen Aramis and d'Artagnan on fire duty, while Porthos and Athos had been left to construct the royal residence. By the time the fire was blazing and one of the maids was cooking, they had barely begun to make any progress.

"Just think, you two will be experts at this by the time we have to rebuild it for next week," Aramis called over to them.

"Next week we'll be bringing a bloody manservant back with us from the château to build it if I have anything to do with it," Porthos shouted from under a pile of cloth that he was trying in earnest to attached to the first of the walls they had built. Athos was muttering and swearing under his breath beside him as he tried to hold the wall up.

The Queen and her second maid returned from their constitutional a while later to find her tent built, although with little grace, and two red-faced and uncomfortable looking musketeers sitting back from the fire waiting to be fed, with the other two beside them doing their best to hide their giggles.

Their night, however, was uninterrupted, and d'Artagnan enjoyed the time to lie under the stars, the warmth of the musketeers surrounding her as they took shifts of sleeping. When Porthos, and then Aramis, were on guard, d'Artagnan lay awake for as long as she could, breathing in the scent of Athos lying next to her and listening to the comforting sound of his breathing. She knew she would regret not sleeping much the next day, but she didn't care. She would take this opportunity while it presented itself.

Their arrival at the house in Etampes was late the next day, and d'Artagnan was doing her best not to show how difficult she was finding it to keep her eyes open. It may be difficult to explain to Athos if he questioned her that she was tired because she had been basking in his closeness and listening to the sounds he made in his sleep. Instead she kept rubbing her tongue on the roof of her mouth to keep herself awake, and when that began to fail she pinched herself regularly on the thigh until she was sure there was a bruise beginning to form.

The Queen was immediately whisked away by the servants of the household, and the musketeers and d'Artagnan were given leave to rest once they had been fed and watered. The four of them were fed in a small dining room, and d'Artagnan ate lazily as she listened to the conversation of her three favourite people going on around her.

"So what are we accompanying the Queen into town tomorrow?" Porthos asked, a mouthful of hearty stew halfway to his mouth.

"She will wish to go to church in the morning," Athos replied after swallowing a mouthful of wine. "Two of us should accompany her."

Aramis immediately volunteered, causing Athos to frown slightly, but when Porthos agreed to go along he nodded his agreement.

"Fine. Then I shall begin d'Artagnan's training in the morning. In the afternoon we shall all be with the Queen while she does the first of her visits."

Charline was too tired to feel even a stir of excitement at having a morning alone with Athos. She was barely managing to keep her head up after a long day of riding, and no opportunity to regain the sleep she had voluntarily lost from the night before.

She came to with a jolt when her elbow slipped off the table, causing her to drop her spoon into her dinner, and startling the others. Embarrassed, she quickly ate the rest of her food in rapid bites, then excused herself to go and find their lodgings for the week.

It was to her immense relief that she found that they had been given three rooms between them within the house, and she immediately claimed the smallest for herself and went to retrieve her belongings, locking the door on her return in case any of the others should come in behind her. She undressed tiredly, sighing with relief when the bandages came off for the first time in a day and a half. She pulled out a clean shirt, slipping it over her head before climbing under the sheets on the bed and falling almost instantly asleep.

Her work of the night before soon proved to be worth it when she found herself dreaming of Athos' warmth and the sounds of his imagined presence at her side.

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Training was a regular feature of her days for the next week, in between accompanying the Queen around the area as she sweetly and kindly made her offerings. The training had been expected, but all three of her musketeers seemed to be taking it very seriously. Presumably the thought of this unknown threat back in Paris had them concerned for her safety.

The possible identity of the threat kept them conversing at nights. Athos kept very quiet during these conversations while Aramis and Porthos made increasingly ridiculous suggestions about who it could be, but she could see in his eyes that he was haunted by the thought of it, which led her to a very obvious conclusion.

"Athos?"

She followed him out of their dining room after he made his excuses to go to bed on their last night there. He stopped instantly, turning to face her and waiting for her to catch him up.

"I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth."

He nodded.

"The woman, that you saw, you know, the day of the court case with Ninon," she swallowed. "Who was she?"

He looked at her sadly for a moment, apparently weighing up whether to be entirely honest with her or not. Eventually he sighed and gave her the answer she had dreaded.

"It was the same woman who you saved me from all those months ago. I had hoped she had left Paris, but apparently she is still very much in presence there."

"And do you think-?"

"That she is the one who let Labarge loose to kill you?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

"Oh."

"I have reason to believe she is associated with the cardinal, which would give her a reason to be there. And you and I both know the extent of her hatred for me, so we cannot doubt the actions she would take."

He began climbing the stairs to their rooms, and she followed quickly.

"But, why kill me?"

He glanced sideways at her. "It is a long time since someone came into my life and made me care about them d'Artagnan. If she has been watching me, then it is no surprise that she made you a target. I am sorry that I have endangered you by offering you friendship."

He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at her in surprise when she snorted in response. "Sorry, but I remember saying something similar to you recently. And when are we not in danger?"

He smiled back at her, then led her down a corridor towards the wing which housed their rooms.

"Indeed. Still, I will do everything I can to put right what I should have done properly all those years ago."

His voice increased in anger as he spoke, and she found herself stopping him with a hand on his arm.

"Don't you think the others..."

"I will tell the others when we return to Paris, don't worry. We will need to address this, soon."

She could see the sadness he was trying to hide as he tried to reassure her. It broke her heart to know that he blamed himself for everything, and that she could do nothing to persuade him he was not to blame. She knew enough of him to realise that he would continue to blame himself until it was over, and even then he would probably continue to do so.

She said nothing else about it, but dropped her hand from his arm, smiling sadly at him.

"Goodnight d'Artagnan. We leave early tomorrow, so get some rest." He glanced at the fading bruises that still discoloured her neck before he turned away from her and went to his room.

She turned away also, continuing on to her own room, and hoping as she went that she would not be haunted by that look in his eyes as she tried to get some much needed sleep.

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The spot the Queen selected for their final camp before returning to Paris was an area of peace and beauty. There was a clear pool at the bottom of the rocky hills they camped on, which was often bathed in the sunlight that shone through the trees that protected them from prying eyes. The Queen evidently felt safe here, and her guards began to relax as she made few demands of them.

Porthos and Athos were putting d'Artagnan through her paces, challenging her to fight them both at the same time, while Aramis was cleaning his pistol nearby, staring dreamily at the sky and whistling back to the birds.

It was exhilarating, fighting them both at once, although she was nowhere close to beating them. In fact they were teasing her easily about her lack of hits, goading her into fighting back more fiercely every time. She was hot and sweaty, but she put it out of her mind as she felt her stubborn side take over, refusing to be beaten completely.

After almost an hour Athos called time on her training. All three of them collapsed to the ground, panting and red in the face after an hour's exercise in the late afternoon sun.

"Aramis, is the Queen back from her swim yet?" Porthos called over to the musketeer, who from his place leaning against a tree could see the comings and goings from the royal tent.

"Yes, she's inside," he called back lazily. His weapons were clean and he now lay against the tree, his hat tilted down to hide his face from the sun. Perhaps not his best attempt at being a lookout...

"Good."

Porthos suddenly stood and toed off his boots before peeling off his jacket and shirt, eventually standing before them in just his trousers. He grinned at them briefly, before scrambling down the hill before them. Seconds later they heard him plunging into the pool below.

Charline was unfazed by the sight of Porthos in just his trousers; she had seen all of him and Aramis in various states of undress on several occasions over the last few months. Both of them were fond of stripping of their shirts when they were sparring with each other, ever since Aramis had accidently ripped Porthos' favourite shirt and both of them had gone home with black eyes.

What made her tense up and start frantically trying to fight off a heated blush was when Athos stood up a moment later and did exactly the same thing.

She almost managed to casually avert her eyes as he reached up and pulled his shirt over his head and off; but he was not one for stripping off normally, so who could blame her really for taking a little peek while he couldn't see her?

When he grinned at her apologetically and then hurried after Porthos, she was left with an imprint seared on her vision of a lean, pale torso dotted with various scars, but still beautiful. She also started to panic about what she would do when they appeared back up the hill and were dripping from their dip in the pool, trousers saturated and stuck to their legs...

Oh dear.

"You going to join them sweetheart?"

She looked over to where Aramis was still lounging against his tree, but he had turned his head and lifted his hat a little so that he could leer at her, grinning. She forced herself to relax and the blush faded from her skin.

Then she threw the biggest stick she could find at him.

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She found time to swim later, a chance to clean up and bathe, once everyone had been fed and the Queen had retired to her tent. It was still early and the sun had not completely faded, so she instructed Aramis to call on her if the Queen should emerge, raising an eyebrow pointedly at him when he questioned why he had to be on lookout, then carefully made her way down to the pool.

It never occurred to her to instruct them to give her privacy, she trusted hem implicitly and knew that they would make sure the Queen didn't find out her secret. So she felt quite comfortable stripping off her clothes, including the dreaded bindings, and plunging into the pool in the semi darkness.

It felt wonderful. She would always be grateful that the Queen had chosen this spot for these few days. The thought of being stuck in the summer heat with nowhere to bathe that would allow her to keep her secret had been niggling at her, although had been superseded by worrying over Athos' increasing guilt. That the Queen would want somewhere that she herself could swim had not crossed her mind.

The pool was shadowed under the trees, so what sunlight was left was almost trapped above her. There were low trees that nearly skimmed the surface of the pool around the northern edge, and it was here she stayed and relaxed after swimming for a long time. She hooked her arms over a branch, her weight making it bob gently in and out of the water. Secure over her branch, she let the cool water and the gentle rocking of her position take over her and she closed her eyes for a few moments.

"D'Artagnan!"

Her eyes snapped open. It was pitch black.

"D'Artagnan!" The voice was hissing her name frantically, and nearby.

Shit. She must have fallen asleep.

"I'm here Athos, I'm fine." She moved a little in the water, letting him know where she was with the sound.

She heard him let out a rather growly breath behind her, somewhere amongst the trees.

"What the hell are you doing? Get out and get back to camp."

Oh great. She had pissed him off, again. "My clothes are, um, over the other side, so I-"

"No they're not. I'll leave them here, now hurry up."

She heard a light thump as her belongings were dropped to the ground, then the angry sound of his footsteps making their way back round the pool. She scrambled out of the water, which was quickly becoming freezing, and fumbled around in the dark until she found her clothes. She pulled them on haphazardly, stuffing the bandages in the pocket of her jacket as she pulled it on. It would have to be enough to disguise her for the moment.

She made her way back round the edge of the pool, feeling her way with her still bare feet until the trees cleared a little and the moon lit her way.

It was lighting her way to Athos, who was standing at the bottom of the hill they had used to get to the pool, with his arms folded and looking entirely too furious for this to end well.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N Wow you guys are really on the ball! So quick with your reviews, I love it!_

_Thanks again Mazcotmaker, Annerizu-san, TheDragonEmpress, Flo, Princess of Peas, romirola, obh614 and Dani Malfoy Granger!_

_You guys are keeping me going. Love to all of you! ;-)_

_Banana xx_

**Chapter 13**

He looked achingly handsome in the moonlight as he stood in front of her. She tried to ignore it as she offered him an explanation.

"I fell asleep."

He raised an eyebrow at her, the other still managing to frown somehow. "You fell asleep? In the water?"

She shrugged one shoulder, a little sheepishly. "I was, um, dangling over a branch."

He bowed his head for a moment, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. She squirmed a little as she watched him trying to rein in his instinct to shout at her. She was more than aware that what she had done had been foolish, for many reasons, but she was also becoming more and more aware of the fact that her trousers were stuck tightly to her legs, and she began to wish that she had taken a minute to put her bandages back on.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Have you any idea-, no, of course you don't," he looked at her with a sigh. "D'Artagnan, why must you insist on being so thoughtless all the time?"

She gaped at his accusatory words. "Thoughtless? I'm never thoughtless!"

"You just fell asleep in the dark in the middle of nowhere, without your 'Charles' disguise, and with someone out to kill you!" He hissed at her, fury at full throttle.

Ah. That kind of thoughtless.

As usual, she responded with anger of her own.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep Athos, I would never be that stupid!"

"I'm not so sure about that."

She recoiled a little as he looked at her with all the coldness she had been slowly melting away over the last couple of weeks.

"That's not fair," she whispered.

He sighed, but no warmth crept into his face. "I think we need to readdress the situation when we return to Paris."

"What situation?" She knew fine well what he meant, but he was going to make him say it to her. He claimed to care for her, so let him be brave enough to break her heart to her face.

"Allowing you to remain with the musketeers."

It hurt as much as she thought it would and she found herself almost shouting at him. "Just because I fell asleep?!"

"No, d'Artagnan, because I cannot trust you to have the sense to keep yourself safe when I am not there to do it for you!" He shouted back.

"Could you be any more patronising Athos? You would never have thrown Charles out for falling asleep, you would never have pushed Charles away just because he was in danger!"

"Charles was not holding a secret that could see us all hanged!"

They both fell silent for a moment, realising that their voices had gotten too loud.

"You are careless d'Artagnan. It is dangerous, for everyone."

She couldn't believe he was using this one incident, one tiny thing, as a way of pushing her away.

"Well, I am happy for you Athos," she hissed at him. "You've been looking for a way of getting rid of me, and now you've found one."

She moved past him, startled when a warm hand caught her own and pulled her to a stop. She wouldn't turn and face him though.

"That's not fair," he said quietly.

"No Athos, what's not fair is that you are going to send me back to Gascony for doing nothing."

"I never said I was going to send you back."

She turned slowly to face him, very much aware that he was still holding onto her hand.

"I would never just send you away, not with a threat hanging over you as well as us," he explained. "It is my duty to see that you are safe, as with any other citizen of Paris."

She flinched and pulled her hand out from his grip.

"Any other citizen Athos? So, what? You set me up in a little safe hideaway somewhere, where I get on with my life as Charline, waiting for you to take care of the danger and hoping that you might come to see me, but knowing the most I can expect is a note to tell me that it's over and I am free to live my life?"

Her eyes were filling up rapidly with tears. Would this man ever stop making her cry? She pulled her jacket tightly around her as she began to shiver, but she did not pull her gaze away from his. She was afraid she may have said too much, but damn him and his emotional barriers. If she was to be sent away, then she would go after he had seen how much he had hurt her.

Unfortunately, being Athos, he was just as stubborn as she was and he refused to back down, leaving them staring at each other for several minutes in hurt or angry silence.

"Are we to assume from the argument that you found her safe and sound Athos?" Aramis' voice drifted down to them from above. Neither answered, but they heard him chuckling a moment later.

Athos was the first to break eye contact. "Go and get dry by the fire d'Artagnan. We can talk about this tomorrow."

"You want me gone Athos," she said sadly. "There's not really much else to say, is there?"

She turned away and slowly made her way back up the rocks to the camp they had made. She stumbled a few times, finding it difficult to see through her tears. Athos made no move to follow her.

When she stepped into the clearing at the top she was met by both Porthos and Aramis, looking at her sternly. One look at her miserable face was enough to stop them from rebuking her for her careless actions, however. Without speaking, Porthos wrapped his arm around her and led her to the fire, while Aramis started making his way down the rocks to Athos.

She was pushed gently down onto a convenient log, then left for a few moments before a blanket was wrapped around her, followed by a strong arm as Porthos sat next to her. He began to rub her arm soothingly.

"What happened d'Art?"

"I fell asleep. We argued about it. He wants me to leave when we get back," she sniffled.

The arm around her shoulders tightened for a moment. "He's angry, and he's a stubborn bugger. We'll sort it, don't worry."

She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "He's right though, isn't he? I am careless."

"And headstrong, and stubborn."

"Thanks," she smiled weakly into the fire.

"You do realise why he's angry though? Have we not been here before?"

"I know."

Porthos said it again anyway. "It's because he cares, that's all."

"But not enough Porthos, not enough," she whispered drowsily, the warmth of the fire reminding her why she had fallen asleep in the first place.

He said nothing for a few moments.

"Come on sweetheart."

Suddenly his strong arm was under her legs and he lifted her off the log. He sat down on the ground in front of it, sitting her next to him so they could lean against it. He pulled her round so that she was curled completely against his side and rubbed his hand on her back. She looked up at him gratefully, this big brother of hers that she loved so much. She quickly reached up and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Thanks Porthos."

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Angry, whispered voices intruded in her head. She realised quickly that she had fallen asleep, and that at some point she had been wrapped completely in the blanket and lain on the ground with the log at her back and the fire in front of her. She didn't move, but listened carefully to the voices that were coming from nearby.

"You have to stop flying off the handle!"

"You do realise what could have happened to her?"

"Yes, and so does she."

"And yet she keeps doing these careless things."

"I hardly think falling asleep is the crime of the century Athos."

"No, but if someone else had found her? If one of the Queen's maids had seen her?"

She heard Porthos snort. "How on earth would they have if we were keeping an eye on the tent?"

"How on earth can a person fall asleep in a lake, hanging over a branch? She has a way of making strange things happen."

"You would really send her away?"

Now Athos sighed. "We have to. If anyone finds out it is a danger to all of us. And we need to find this woman who tried to kill her already."

"Bullshit."

"Sorry?"

"You don't give a damn that we could be in trouble for her pretending to be male, any more than we do."

"Aramis is right. What you care about is that she could be hurt for it."

Her breath hitched in her throat as Athos made no move to deny their accusations.

"And as for this woman, she'll be far safer with us."

"And she has as much right to be part of this than anyone."

There was silence for a few moments and Charline froze in her blanketed bundle, hoping none of them were looking at her.

"I'll go and get some firewood."

Athos voice was tense, as were his footsteps as he walked away.

"Do you think he knows? Is that why he's pushing her away?"

"I'm not even sure if she knows, Porthos. Did she say anything to you last night?"

"No. And him?"

"Nothing. I mostly just watched him pacing and muttering to himself."

What on earth were they talking about? Know what? What was she supposed to know? Her stubbornness wouldn't let her wait any longer.

She wrestled quickly with the blankets that surrounded her, startling both of the musketeers as she threw off her constraints and climbed to her feet. They were sitting a little way to the side, in a place where they had a perfect view of both the tent and her. Too late she remembered that she wasn't constrained by her bandages and she quickly grabbed her jacket and held it tightly around herself.

"And just what exactly am I supposed to know?"

They gaped at her for a moment, before Aramis grinned at her. He looked at Porthos, who shrugged.

"Well since you ask, we were wondering if he, or you for that matter, were aware of the fact that you are in love with him."

Her thoughts froze for what seemed an age as she gaped at them. Aramis was still grinning, while Porthos looked at her in sympathy. She didn't know what was worse.

Actually, the sympathy was worse.

She snapped back to her senses and advanced on the two of them, using the only defence she could think of in the situation; deny and attack.

"Of all the stupid, ridiculous...how can you possibly think that?" she growled at them. "As if I would ever think- you are my brothers, all of you. That would just be- It's not true, got it?"

_Brilliant stuff Charline_, she thought to herself. _Turn into an ineloquent mess, that'll convince them you are in control of your feelings._

Attack time.

"You say that again, even hint at it, and you will regret it, understand?" She pointed an accusing finger at each of them in turn.

They nodded, both of them now smiling slightly. She just rolled her eyes and flounced away.

"I'm going to get dressed properly, try not to panic if I'm not back quick enough for you ladies."

And now she had reminded them of her stupid actions from the night before. This was shaping up to be great day.

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In fact the rest of the day offered up no more trauma. She spoke to no one all day, earning her some rolled eyes from Aramis and Porthos after they had stopped trying to talk to her, and a few puzzled looks from Athos when she ignored their attempts. He didn't try to speak to her at all.

Porthos tried to get her to train with him, but she just shook her head stubbornly and covered her face with her hat, lying to the side of their camp and listening to the clash of swords when Aramis took up his offer in her stead.

She couldn't believe they had suggested she was in love with Athos. She had been so careful!

Mind you, Constance had worked it out pretty quickly after realising she was a girl, hadn't she?

Charline blushed under the safety of her hat. That was all she needed, the two of them suspecting the truth and either making her life hell teasing her about it, or, even worse, trying to help her! She shuddered. Athos could never know how she felt. He obviously had no inkling at all, whatever Porthos thought.

He was pushing her away because she was a woman, and she had proven to him yet again that women could not be fully trusted. She cursed herself for her stupidity, and him for his overreaction.

There was no way in hell she was going to get sent away – he had a real fight on his hands if he thought she was going anywhere that easily.

She lay there for hours: thinking over the previous week and how happy she had been, overanalysing everything that Athos had said and done since he found out the truth, dreaming about what life could possibly become if he allowed himself to even consider letting a woman back into his life, and choosing it to be her.

She hid all her emotions of the day under the mask of her hat, and they allowed her to while they took care of the small duties the Queen required of them, assuming that she was sulking. They were partially right.

Night had fallen some hours before and it was her turn to take watch over the royal tent. She moved silently over to where Athos was sitting, currently on watch and sat down beside him. She didn't look at him. Her presence would have to be enough to tell her that he could go and rest.

She felt him look at her for a while before he rose to his feet with a sound that fell somewhere between frustration and sadness. He walked away, but her breath quickened along with her heartbeat when his footsteps paused and he started coming back to her.

"D'Artagnan?"

She didn't reply.

"I apologise if I hurt you with my words yesterday. I was angry, and worried, and I was much harsher than I intended to be. I meant what I said, that we would think about it when we reached Paris, but there is no foregone conclusion here. You will be part of the discussion, alright?"

She inclined her head very slightly, still not looking at him.

"Don't think that I do not care d'Artagnan," he almost whispered the last before he finally walked away. She bowed her head for a moment, taking a shaky breath as she tried to get her emotions under control.

She had meant what she said to Porthos though. She knew that he cared, and that was why he got so angry at her. But he didn't care enough, not to make her happy.

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The next day she spoke to them all as normal, having decided during her watch duty that sulking like a little girl was possibly not in her best interests in persuading Athos that any faith he had had in her had not been misplaced. She was back to her usual self, giving as good as she got with Aramis and Porthos, and training with Athos once again when he finally offered.

She was determined to enjoy these last days before the difficult conversation she knew lay ahead of her when they returned.

The only person who wasn't quite so happy was Aramis. Currently, he was aiming his pistol at a tree filled with songbirds, complaining about the noise they were making.

"I thought this was paradise?" asked Athos, dryly. He was stretched out on his side on the ground in front of Charline. He turned and smiled his crooked grin at her when Aramis complained that his likening of the place to heaven had been three days previously.

Charline found herself staring at the back of Athos' head after he turned away from her. That smile, yet again taking her breath away. She really needed to get over it.

Her breath caught again a second later when a gunshot made her jump and Athos shouted despairingly at Aramis.

All three of them stared at him when he replied, suddenly pale, that he had not actually fired. They froze as a group for a millisecond before springing into action.

"The Queen," someone shouted, and then they were scrambling in all directions. She grabbed her pistol from where it lay at her side while Aramis stuck his head over the edge of the rocks. She heard him curse and then suddenly all four of them were climbing down to the poolside, pistols ready.

She spotted quickly what had made Aramis exclaim as the body of the Queen lay on the ground, blood pooling in her back and soaking through the gown. Reaching her side, d'Artagnan, Porthos and Athos scanned the trees around them for the culprit, while Aramis turned over the body and sighed. A glance down showed d'Artagnan that the young maid, Clarice, was the one who had been killed.

Suddenly, Porthos and Aramis were running up the hill to the Queen, who emerged from her tent looking distraught as she saw the body.

"D'Artagnan!" Athos' shout was enough to tell her what she needed to do. She followed him without question, up to where Porthos and Aramis had practically lifted the Queen bodily and were taking her towards their horses. She and Athos turned their backs to her, still scanning the trees.

"An assassin," Athos announced.

Porthos and Aramis pulled the Queen out of sight, just as another shot ripped through the air. D'Artagnan found herself suddenly flat on her back Athos beside her, sheltering her as best as he could with his body.

"Can you see anything d'Artagnan?" he whispered to her, his face next her hers. She peered over the top of him quickly, then shook her head. "Then let's move."

He moved away from her, standing up and offering his hand to pull her up, just as another shot rang out from the trees at the other side of the pond.

She gasped as Athos suddenly collapsed on top of her.

"Athos?"

_A/N Uh oh..._

_Evil I know, but I had to end it somewhere! _


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N Apologies again for the cliff hanger! It's just good to keep you on your toes every now and then..._

_Thankyou once again to my wonderfully encouraging reviewers: Flo, Mazcotmaker, Dani Malfoy Granger, obh614, Annika Sparks, Annerizu-san, Tianne and AnonymousVDAddict._

_It's to see some of you coming back after each chapter to tell me what you think, it's making me write faster! ;-)_

He was lying sprawled completely over her, his head flopped down next to hers, tucked into her shoulder. She couldn't move.

"Athos?" she whispered, her voice raw with fear.

"I'm alright," he whispered back, so low she could barely hear it. She could have sobbed with relief.

"Don't move," he continued. His lips were brushing her neck as he spoke. She had to concentrate to hear him. "Let him think he got me. Is your pistol ready?"

"Yes."

"Good. He will move if he thinks the way is clear. When you see movement, tell me, shoot, and we'll run."

She waited for what seemed an age, peering over the top of Athos into the woods, her eyes mercifully shaded by her hat. He was heavy on top of her, but all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and hold him close to her. Her heartbeat had still not calmed after the awful eternal moment when she thought she had lost him, and she wasn't sure it ever would.

She tried not to think about whether he could hear her heart pounding in her chest.

Suddenly, a movement in the trees across from them caught her eye.

"There," she whispered. "Ready?"

"When you are."

She took a deep breath and lifted her pistol, firing quickly into the space she was sure the assassin was hiding. Before she could let her breath out again Athos was already on his feet, pulling her with him and the two of them rapidly made their way up the rest of the hillside and into the temporary safety of the woods.

She ducked behind a tree and leaned against it, her hands grasping her knees as she bent over and tried to catch her breath. Her legs were shaking and her head was pounding.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" Athos asked softly from the tree beside her.

She shook her head. "No," she gasped. "I'm alright. You...scared me, that's all."

"Sorry about that," she could hear the grin in his voice. "Worked though didn't it?"

She lifted her head, a smile already on her face to return to him. It most certainly had worked, for all he had given her a heart attack when he'd slumped onto her, apparently dead.

Now she had another one when she looked at him and saw that half of his face was covered in blood.

"You said you were alright!"

He reached up and touched his bloodied cheek, pulling his hand away to look at it and shrugging. "I am. It just nicked the side of my head."

"Just 'nicked' the side...?!" she broke off, a wave of nausea going through her, and put her hands back on her knees taking deep steady breaths.

Suddenly, he was in front of her with his hands on her shoulders, gently lifting her up until she was standing upright. He lifted her chin with one hand and made her look at him. "I'm fine. I promise, alright?"

She could do nothing but nod, although the amount of blood that was saturating his face still made her feel ill.

"Come on d'Artagnan. We need to get the others and get the Queen out of here."

He started to move away, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Wait," she said. "You'll frighten the Queen looking like that."

He quickly searched his pockets for a handkerchief, but came up with nothing. With a roll of her eyes she grabbed the hem of her shirt, ripping a section off.

"Here," she scrunched it up a little and leaned up to wipe the blood from his face. She avoided making eye contact but she could feel him staring at her while she worked quickly. She blushed a little as she finished, taking a slight step back from him.

"Thank you," he said softly.

She shrugged. "I needed a new shirt anyway. Here, take it and put pressure on the wound until Aramis can look at it."

Their fingers brushed as she handed it to him and she pulled her hand back sharply, clearing her throat.

"This way." In a flash he was gone; pushing his way through the trees and leading her to where she presumed he knew they would find the others. She stuck close to him, most definitely not enjoying the view as he pushed his way through. Honestly.

It took them less than a minute to find the others, the Queen already mounted in front of Aramis, Porthos holding the reins of the other three horses.

"How many?" Porthos waited until d'Artagnan had mounted and then passed all the reins into her care.

"One I think."

"Let's go and check shall we?" Porthos grinned at Athos and the two of them plunged back into the trees.

"D'Artagnan? Are you alright?"

She turned to Aramis, who was staring at her in concern. The Queen was also looking at her strangely.

"I'm fine, why?"

"You look a little pale," he said. "And there's blood on your hands."

"Oh. It's not mine, it's Athos'. He's alright, we just, uh. We'll explain later."

He nodded in understanding. The Queen did not need to know of how close they had come.

"Are you alright your majesty?" d'Artagnan bowed a little from the waist as she asked, but the Queen had no time to respond as Athos and Porthos came crashing back through the trees.

"Time to ride!" Porthos shouted. D'Artagnan threw him and Athos their reins then followed Aramis, who had instantly moved off at Porthos' shout.

As the four horses galloped through the woods d'Artagnan fell back a little and called to Porthos. "What's wrong?"

"Not just an assassin," he called back. "We need to lose them, quickly."

They rode for what seemed like hours, cantering through the woods after the first initial burst of speed, trying to make sure their horses would last. They paused on a few occasions, d'Artagnan using her father's looking glass to check their progression. At last she deemed that they had moved far enough ahead, and Athos ordered rest.

The stopped in a small copse and d'Artagnan quickly gathered the horses and led them to the stream that ran along the edge of it. She gave each of them a reassuring rub, apologising for not being able to relieve them of their saddles or any of their tack. Horses had always been her favourite animals on the farm, and they seemed to understand her too. She lost a few minutes with them, making sure they each bent their heads to drink. When she turned back to their copse she realised with a start that it was almost empty. Everyone but Athos had moved away.

"Where is everyone?" she asked. Athos was reloading all of the pistols, his hat and sword on the ground at his feet.

"Fish and wood," he said. Answering her question in his usual taciturn manner of when he was busy.

"The Queen?"

"Gone to help."

"Oh."

Silence stretched out until she realised something with a start. "Did Aramis look at that head wound? It needs treated."

"Later."

"But-"

"Later, d'Artagnan," he looked up at her to soften the harshness of his reply. "Assist me."

He held out a pistol to her and she moved to take it from him, taking care to sit near him where she could keep an eye on him and make sure no more blood started seeping from the wound she could now see above his ear.

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes until footsteps put them on edge. Both of them raised a loaded pistol. It was just Porthos, however, returning with the Queen carrying bundles of sticks to start a fire. Aramis followed moments later with a brace of fish.

"I'd like to cook for you all, if you don't mind. To thank you."

The Queen smiled at them all sweetly as she spoke, and not one of them tried to turn her down.

They regretted it quite severely when they were trying to chew through charcoal in the shape of fish a short while later. It felt to d'Artaganan like trying to bite through and swallow a log, but she followed the example of the others and politely turned down the offer of more, with a gesture suggesting that she was full. While the others were trying to compliment what the Queen blithely announced was her first ever time of cooking, Charline put her plate round behind her and quietly tipped the content onto the ground.

As she did so she was struck suddenly by a memory of doing the same thing when she was small, while her father was not so good yet at cooking, and she was too young to take over the role. She used to choke down as much as possible, before offering the plate under the table to the dog, who seemed to have no taste buds to speak of.

She didn't have long to be melancholy, as Athos was suddenly on his feet. She caught on quickly when Aramis mounted his horse before Porthos handed the Queen up to him. D'Artagnan pulled her eyeglass from her belt once more, keeping it in hand so she could keep an eye on their hunters as they rode away at haste.

It wasn't long before they realised that they could not continue to outrun the pursuing men, with five people on four horses. Porthos demanded that they make a stand, but before an argument could break out Charline spotted the top of a building through the trees. A convent.

"Two of us shall wait there with the Queen, while the others ride on to Paris to bring back the regiment." Athos seemed to be in two minds about who would follow each part of his instruction.

"Porthos and I will continue. You should remain with Aramis and go with the Queen." It was the only logical plan, but he frowned at her as she suggested it. She rolled her eyes at him. Damn him and his chivalry, she was no mere girl and he knew it.

"I don't like it; we won't get back until tomorrow at least." Porthos was frowning at her, but she believed that his concern was for the three being left behind, rather than keeping her safe, so he escaped her ire for now.

"We'd better hurry up then, come on!" With a kick to its flank, she moved her horse into a rapid canter, Porthos catching up with her after a couple of seconds.

They cantered in silence for a while, until Porthos suddenly began to chuckle beside her.

"What?"

"You really know how to piss him off, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked haughtily, but her heart sinking a little at the same time.

"You didn't feel him glaring daggers at you as you rode off then? I thought he was going to explode when I glanced at him."

She shrugged, a fake gesture of nonchalance. "Well, it was the only way we could go, wasn't it?"

"And that was your decision to make, was it?" Porthos laughed again.

She sighed. She really needed to stop letting her temper get the better of her. Porthos was right; she hadn't given Athos his place, and whether Charles or Charline she should be expecting to be in trouble for it.

"Shit," she muttered.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone deal with being in love the way you do," he glanced at her, a wicked grin on his face.

She blushed scarlet. "I told you that you were being ridiculous! I'm not more in love with Athos than, than you are!"

He pulled his horse to a stop, moving to the side of the road. She followed suit, dismounting when he did.

He gestured towards her flushed face. "The evidence most definitely suggests otherwise."

"Shut up," she huffed, crossing her arms. "Now what the hell are we doing?"

"We're going to take a stand!"

"But...Paris! We need to go and get the others."

Porthos grabbed hold of the reins of both their horses and started pulling them off the road. "Well, it'll be easier to get there without being followed and killed, won't it?"

"Athos will kill you," she said, an eyebrow raised but a grin spreading across her face.

"Well, he's only going to know if we lose, isn't he?" he winked at her, and she moved to join him.

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When they reached Paris some hours later, with new information and a new desperation to get back to the others, they were anxious to find the regiment were not there. The captain, on hearing the details, sent Porthos and d'Artagnan to investigate, while he went to the King.

With every moment that passed, and every new lead they found that led them somewhere else, Charline was beginning to panic more and more about having left the others behind, and showing no signs of heading back to them.

When she chased after the ghost of the woman smelling of Lavender, losing sight of the flash of colour she had seen as she reached the streets outside the dead man's office, she was aware that her emotions were on their way to getting the better of her. She kicked a stone on the ground when she realised she was never going to catch up with her, cursing after the spectre, and cursing at pain now coursing through her foor.

"D'Artagnan?" Porthos appeared beside her, as calm as ever.

"I lost her," she said quietly. "But she was definitely there, I swear it."

"I believe you. Did you see her?"

She shook her head. "No, but I recognised the scent."

"Come on, we need to get back to the barracks and wait for Treville," Porthos suddenly appeared slightly anxious.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, let's go."

He started walking away, back to the barracks, but she caught up with him quickly and tried her best to match her stride to his long one.

"Porthos, don't start turning into Athos now! What is it?" she demanded.

He sighed. "The woman. Can you think where you recognise the scent from?"

"No, not off the top of my head. But I definitely do, why?"

"I think there's a good chance that this woman may also be the other woman, the one that we are trying to identify."

"Ah."

"Exactly, so perhaps it's best that we get a move on and get back to the others as quickly as we can."

They hurried on, relieved to find Treville back from informing the Cardinal of the attack, but disappointed again when he told them the regiment were hunting with the King, and it could be some time before they got the message he had sent.

"We need to do something, we have to go back!" d'Artagnan said forcefully.

"I am not suggesting we just sit and wait," the captain replied, an eyebrow raised at her tone. "Any ideas? The two of you and me with an injured arm cannot be the best we have to offer."

"I have an idea," Porthos grinned.

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"Athos! Aramis!"

She waited with baited breath for one of them to answer the captain's shout.

"Down here," Aramis called back. "We're fine."

She let out a sigh of relief, following the motley crew of stable-boys and messengers that they had assembled down to the floor of the cellar. She pushed her way through the group when they stopped, smiling to see Aramis and the Queen standing in front of her, a fierce looking nun smiling from behind them.

She faltered slightly. "Where's Athos?"

Aramis opened his mouth to answer her, just as a gunshot reverberated around the corridors of the cellar, making them all jump and stopping her heart completely for a second.

"He went after Gallagher," Aramis said quickly when the noise died down.

Without a thought, she turned and pushed her way through the group, running quickly down the tunnels as she frantically searched for him. Vaguely, she could hear footsteps following her.

She stopped suddenly when she heard his voice speaking softly. She listened while he spoke to Gallagher, trying to reason with him, offering him a way not to die. She held her breath, still out of sight around the corner. Her pistol was ready, just in case.

Another shot rang out and she threw herself around the corner, her heart in her throat as she dreaded what she might see.

Her knees gave way and she held onto the wall for support when she saw that Athos was fine, standing with his back to her in front of Gallagher, who was now on the ground. She was still standing there, stopping herself from running and throwing her arms around him in relief, when Porthos and Aramis arrived, having followed at a slower pace.

Aramis came to her and lifted her gently back to her feet, patting her on the head with a grin when he let her go. They both moved aside as the nun d'Artagnan had seen with Aramis came through, moving towards Gallagher to give him some comfort in his last moments.

"Come on, we'll wait outside," said Porthos, and he and Aramis turned and walked away.

She was going nowhere without Athos though, so she waited a moment, watching as the nun squeezed his arm before kneeling down. Athos stood there for a second longer, looking at Gallagher, before finally turning round and seeing that she was still there.

He walked over to her as she swallowed hard. Why did it feel like this, seeing him again? She had only been out of his company for less than two days, but it felt like a lifetime. She supposed that not knowing if he had been alive or dead for the duration of their separation probably had something to do with it.

Now he walked towards her, that breathtaking crooked smile on his face. She smiled back at him.

"You're alive then," she breathed when he stopped in front of her.

"You too," he grinned at her. "Come on." He took her by the elbow and led her out into the corridors. She counted the seconds until he let go of her. Seven.

As they walked back through the building she filled him in on what had happened in Paris, missing out the part where she and Porthos had gone against his orders and stopped to fight. He blanched at the idea of the German assassination attempt.

"It makes no sense."

"No," she said. "No, it goes much deeper than that. There was a woman Athos, a female assassin. Porthos thinks it may be the same woman who was in league with Labarge."

He stopped as they entered an empty hallway, reaching out to pull her to a halt beside him. "And what do you think?"

"I think he's right," she said, hiding her excitement that he was specifically asking for her opinion.

He was looking at her oddly, saying nothing but with a quiet sadness emanating from him. She said nothing and just let him look.

After a few seconds, he reached out slowly and rested one hand on the side of her face. She desperately wanted to lean into the touch, but she remained frozen. She had no idea what was about to happen, but she was definitely going to let it.

He paused like that for a few more seconds, saying nothing, and not moving. Eventually, his thumb gently stroked her cheekbone, just once. "I won't let anything happen to you Charline. I promise."

He leant forward and gently kissed her on the forehead, and her eyes immediately filled with tears as she sucked in a sudden breath. He let go of her and was gone in the next second, out of the room and into another hallway that led to the front door.

She stood frozen to the spot, refusing to let her traitorous hand from getting its way and moving up to touch the spot where he had kissed her, like some damsel in distress. Instead she concentrated on fighting to get her breathing back in control, and frantically wipe at the tears that were just starting to spill down her face.

"Get a grip d'Artagnan!" she whispered furiously at yourself. "It was a brotherly kiss for God's sake. Enough."

She couldn't help but hope, though, that perhaps there had been something else in his eyes when he had looked at her, something else in the promise he had made.

But no. She couldn't afford to think like that. He thought of her as a sister, the same as the others.

"Enough, you foolish girl!" she whispered to herself once last time, tightening her fists and wiping her eyes with them.

She straightened her spine, took a deep breath, and headed out to join her family.

_A/N I know changed details of the episode with where Treville was etc, it just made sense this way!_

_More soon... _

_Banana x_


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N I am so, so sorry! I have never taken this long to update, but I really struggled with bits of this chapter. I wrote it and then I wasn't happy, so I rewrote almost the whole thing – twice! Just yesterday I rewrote the ending for the third or fourth time. So apologies it has taken ridiculously long! The next chapter will be sooner, and it is a nice long chapter to make up for it... ;)_

_Thank you to Tianne, Annerizu-san, obh614, Mazcotmaker, flo, Mick1505, La, Awesome-Sauce-Eater, ekg1997 and Calatrice for keeping me going with your fabulous encouragement! It's definitely kept me going with this chapter, so thank you so much._

**Chapter 15**

Aramis' rooms were where they ended up. Athos had said no to Porthos' suggestion of a tavern, and he seemed reluctant to go to his own rooms, so here they were.

When Charline had joined the others outside the convent Athos had just finished announcing who had hired Gallagher. Everyone had seemed momentarily stunned, but then Aramis had quietly asked if this was the same woman who Athos had seen at Ninon's trial. He had only nodded a confirmation, but refused to say anymore until they were back in Paris.

D'Artagnan had watched him closely while they reunited the King and Queen. She could see how tense he was. She had said nothing while Porthos and Aramis had whispered angrily about the Cardinal and she had clapped slowly with the rest of them while they were expected to applaud Richelieu's sterling work in apprehending the suspect. The whole time her eyes did not move from the side of Athos' head. She watched the vein in his temple as it became more and more visible. She saw the clench of his jaw under his beard as he stayed stoically silent throughout.

The only time she lost sight of him was when they turned to leave the room and she realised he had not left with the rest of them. She realised that he had stayed behind to speak to the cardinal, so she hovered outside the room, waiting for him to emerge. He hadn't seemed surprised to see her waiting for him. This was the only way to give him support that she could think of.

Now she was sitting on a chair near Aramis' table, her back straight and her whole body tense. Athos had taken a seat at the table on entering the room, and she had sat as close to him as she could. Porthos and Aramis were both lounging on the bed, their backs against the wall as they sat next to each other, looking expectantly at Athos.

He wasn't looking back at them. Instead his head was low, his hands clasped tightly and his elbows tensely resting on his thighs. D'Artagnan couldn't reach out and offer him comfort, and it was painful.

"Who is she Athos?"

Porthos eventually broke the silence, his voice gentle, when he realised that Athos was going to need some prodding to get started.

From her position Charline could see his face when he raised it to look at them, and she was horrified to see how dead his eyes had become. A lump appeared in her throat.

"I wasn't lying when I said she was the most dangerous woman I had ever known," he started speaking softly. She could hear no trace of emotion in his speech. "Nor was I lying when I called her a liar and a criminal at the trial. She now goes by the name of Milady Clarick de Winter. I knew her as Anne. The Comtesse de La Fere."

"The Comtesse?" Porthos' mouth was hanging open.

"You mean she...?"

"Is my wife. Yes."

There followed several moments of stunned silence. Athos was clearly waiting for them to react before he told the rest of his story.

"You said there was a woman, and she was dead. You said nothing about a wife, nothing."

Charline was alarmed to hear how tight Aramis' voice was when he spoke. She glanced at him quickly, and saw that he was indeed holding in some anger. She saw Porthos reach a hand over and give his knee a squeeze before letting go.

_Yes, please_, she thought. _Please calm down._

"No, I didn't say anything about a wife. But I told no lie when I said there was a woman, and that she was dead. I believed that she was." Athos was still calm and unemotional.

"I don't really understand Athos," Porthos shrugged slightly.

Athos sighed and bowed his head once again. "She was dead because I killed her."

_No_, she thought. _That's not right. Keep going Athos, you are not a murderer._

She clenched her fists tightly. If he didn't hurry up and explain then she was going to.

"You killed her?" asked Porthos.

Athos head rose up to look at them once more, but this time his eyes were haunted, and his voice betrayed his emotions when he whispered the truth. "I had her hanged. She's a killer. She murdered my brother."

Porthos swore. "Athos..."

"Don't you see why I told you nothing? I executed my own wife, my _wife_. I also got my brother killed."

"No you didn't!" Charline could stay quiet no longer and Athos turned to look at her sadly. "_She _killed Thomas, not you. You cannot blame yourself for the rest of your life Athos; you have been trying to atone for loving someone for years!"

He just continued to look at her, saying nothing.

"I have never once thought you were to blame for what happened. I have tried for months to see why you do, but I can't. You are not to blame for her."

Suddenly Aramis was on his feet, and pointing a finger at her. "You knew about this too?"

Her eyes widened as she realised what she had said. Aramis looked furious. "Yes, I...I knew something about it. But only because-"

"What a secretive creature you are Athos," Aramis interrupted her. "I have never pushed you, never, to tell me what happened to this lost love of yours. I have been there for you through all of this, through all of your bouts of depression, for each and every time that you got yourself so stupidly drunk that you could not even begin to remember where you live. I cannot believe that I have been your friend, your _brother_, for so long, and you could not even bring yourself to tell me that you had a wife."

Athos stood too, stepping forward with his hands held in front of him, ready to try and explain himself to Aramis; but he was stopped in his tracks by Porthos, who spoke from his place still on Aramis' bed.

"That's not what you're angry about Aramis. Don't castigate him for lying and hold back from the truth yourself."

Everyone froze for a moment as they waited for Aramis to speak. Then Porthos shuffled forward to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Go on," he encouraged him.

Aramis tightened his chin, lifting his head high before speaking to Athos, his voice seething in anger. "That is why you would have let Porthos die," he said. "You would have let him die, rather than take him to your house to save his life, and all because you blame yourself for marrying someone who turned out to be what she is."

Athos flinched as if he had been struck. Charline watched as he tightened and loosened his fists at his side a few times, swallowing hard. She wanted desperately to take away his pain.

"You are right," he whispered. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. "Yet more harm that I am to blame for. I must...I cannot..."

He looked Porthos firmly in the eye. "Forgive me."

And he left.

"Athos!" d'Artagnan knocked herself out of her shocked stupor and ran to the door after he swept out of it. She watched in despair as he moved quickly down the stairs and out of her sight. A few seconds later she heard the door into the street close loudly.

Instantly she turned back into the room, striding towards Aramis. She ignored the ashen look on his face and launched into a full verbal assault.

"How could you? How could you try and make him feel worse? And you ask him why he never said anything before? I don't believe you Aramis; you're supposed to be his brother, his friend!"

"I never meant to..."

"No, you meant to show him that you were pissed off that he didn't tell you first. Well you've managed that, and you've also managed to make him feel even worse than he did before. Do you not think that this has been eating him alive ever since?" She could practically feel steam coming out her ears.

Porthos sighed. "It really didn't help, Aramis."

Aramis rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. His face was still grey. "I know," he slumped back down onto the bed. "I shouldn't have...I just don't understand why he didn't say anything."

"Because he's ashamed! He's ashamed that he brought that woman into his home, and into his family."

Porthos moved to her and gently sat her down at the table. That was when she realised that she was crying, yet again. She wiped at the tears hastily while Porthos sat in the seat Athos had vacated.

"He has spent five years hating himself and blaming himself for everything bad that has happened, and you acted like a two-year-old because he didn't tell you first."

"I know, alright?" Aramis shouted back at her. "I get it, I was wrong and I acted poorly. It was unnecessary and I made it much worse than it needed to be. Happy?"

She folded her arms and glared at him. "Perhaps if you had let me finish explaining, you would not have felt so bad that I knew first, or felt the need to bring up the incident with Porthos to hurt him."

Both of them were looking at her blankly.

"The only reason I know is because when I went back for him, when I saw that he was a wreck and he needed someone despite how little I knew him, and you decided to hold a grudge and leave him there in misery," she said, her voice shaking. "When I went back she was there."

Aramis gaped at her. "You met her?"

"No, I stopped her from killing him."

He felt a little bit satisfied at the horror that crossed Aramis' face.

"The house was on fire and I fought my way through to him, thinking he had drunkenly dropped a candle, but she had done it. She tried to burn the house down with him inside. When I found him he was on the ground and I dragged him out. I saw her ride away, and that's when he told me. She murdered his brother, she seduced the hangman and escaped, and she came back there to finish him. She was going to slit his throat and he would have let her do it. That is what he thinks of himself. He made me swear to tell you nothing, because he is ashamed and he is hurting and doesn't know how to deal with it, what with being a man and all." She glared at both of them.

Aramis stood quickly, cursing loudly. He moved towards the door without hesitation, pausing only when d'Artagnan crossed the room and laid a hand on his arm.

"Make it better Aramis, please."

He looked at her, returning the hesitant smile she gave him with some relief. He stroked a hand down her arm and leaned in to give her a quick kiss on the temple. "I will."

She smiled at him gently and he practically ran down the stairs, calling up to them to wait there for a while, they would hopefully be back.

She closed the door gently, and rested her head against it with a groan.

"Please tell me you don't hate him for what he did," she said, not turning round to look at Porthos.

"I don't," was all he said.

She turned round and looked at him. He was smiling at her reassuringly.

"Come on. Aramis must have some wine around here somewhere!" Porthos winked at her and started searching the room in earnest. She returned his smile weakly and went to sit back in her chair. She watched as he searched, eventually shouting in triumph when he found an unopened bottle and some cups.

"Why do you really think Aramis reacted that way?" she asked after a while or playing with her cup and drinking nothing.

Porthos put down his drink. "Because he is hurt, and he is hot-headed, and because he doesn't know how to deal with his emotions either."

"I know that Athos didn't mean to hurt anyone, he was trying to keep your friendship I think."

Porthos nodded and drained his cup. "I agree. But that is why Aramis is hurting, to think that Athos assumed that we would no longer be there for him, that we would judge him because of his past."

She thought over his words for a while, realising that she agreed with him. Her anger at Aramis had been a defensive reaction for Athos, but she could understand why he had been hurt; although perhaps not why he had felt the need to make things worse by adding to Athos' distress.

"They're both a pair of idiots, aren't they?" she asked.

Porthos snorted. "Absolutely."

He raised his now full cup to hers and she met it in a toast before finally taking a drink.

"Is she the one that sent Labarge after you?" he asked, frowning.

"I think so. We think so."

"Even better," he said dryly. She chuckled darkly in agreement.

"Do we really just sit here and wait?" she was agitated, and concerned that things could be getting even worse without her there to supervise.

"Yeah. They'll sort it out."

She looked at him, and she believed him.

"Some cards to pass the time?" he asked.

"Why not? But I am not playing you for money, absolutely not!"

He looked affronted by her refusal, but soon was grinning at her when her raised eyebrow was obviously going nowhere.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

D'Artagnan's mind was a whirl of lavender, but there was something else...another scent...was it jasmine?

She could taste them in the air around her as she made her way through the streets of Paris. It was dark, and quiet. She had been wandering, searching, for hours and she had met no one. She was beginning to panic and the smells in the air were getting stronger, threatening to choke her if they continued much longer.

She turned down one alley and then the next, unable to run although she wanted desperately to.

She needed to find him. She could sense the danger that was around her; that was following him while she tried desperately to search for him in this eerily empty city.

The lavender filled her nostrils and the jasmine caught in her throat. She was forced to stop as she entered another alley, coughing as she tried to dispel the overwhelming scents from her lungs.

Suddenly she realised that although they choked her and filled her nose, she could actually smell nothing. She was just horribly aware of their presence.

"Are you looking for me, darling boy?"

A hand wrapped round her throat from behind, squeezing lightly and choking her further. She felt the cold metal pressed against her neck and the voice came closer, whispering right into her ear.

"Or were you looking for him?"

Her head was pushed down and suddenly Athos was lying on the ground in front of her, a terrifying pool around him, made from the dark liquid seeping out from a hideous wound in his neck.

She sobbed as she fought against the strong hand that held her in place. She could do nothing to get free from its grip, and she watched as Athos panicked and choked in front of her.

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with fear, while he tried to staunch the flow of blood from his open neck.

She screamed as his hands fell to his sides, and he stopped moving.

A pair of dark eyes with a reflection of a blue flower swam before her vision before she forced her eyes open, and realised that she was still screaming.

In Aramis' bed.

With a highly concerned Porthos shaking her by the shoulders, and Aramis hovering behind him.

"Oh, did ...I?" she pulled herself to a sitting position, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Do you have nightmares often?" Aramis asked.

She shook her head, looking neither of them in the eye. She wasn't being entirely untruthful – this was a new one after all.

"When did you reappear?" she asked Aramis.

"A while ago. We let you sleep. We had things to talk about," Aramis answered.

"Where's Athos? Did you speak to him?"

"Yes," Aramis sighed. "We spoke, and I apologised. He wouldn't hear of it, he drank and eventually he made me leave."

She stood up. "You left him?!"

"He'll be fine d'Artagnan," Porthos pointed out. "He's had nights like this plenty of times, we've seen it before."

She couldn't believe it. She supposed this was the male way of dealing with uncomfortable issues – leave it till morning, and pretend it didn't happen.

"How long has he been alone?" she glared at them and they looked at each other and shrugged.

"An hour? Two?"

She groaned and started rushing around the room, picking up her discarded jacket, hopping as she pulled on one boot and then the other.

"He won't thank you for going round there," said Aramis quietly. "He asked to be alone, and I respected his wishes."

"You respected those wishes because you didn't want to be there either. Why can't men just talk like normal people?!" she grabbed her pistol and her sword. "You didn't see him the night after the fire. I was the one that was there for that one, and if tonight's anything like it then alone is the last thing he needs. I'll see you both in the morning." Her dismissal left no room for either of them to follow her.

She let Aramis' door fall shut behind her as she ran down the stairs and out into the street, muttering the whole time about men, their idiocy, and their lack of emotional understanding.

She ran the whole way to his rooms, panicking with every step about the amount of time he had been left alone. He wouldn't care if he hurt himself, if he made himself ill and choked to death.

But she did.

She banged loudly on his door, uncaring for the hour and any sleeping neighbours, when she reached it. Her reply was a grunted something that sounded vaguely like 'go away' from inside.

"Athos, open this door and let me in!"

Nothing.

"I'll break it down Athos, I swear. Let me in."

She couldn't even hear him moving around.

"Fine," she said to herself. "Broken door it is."

She took several steps back, wincing at the solid look of the door. This was going to hurt like hell.

She was right.

The jolt to her shoulder reverberated around her entire body, making her hiss with pain. The door hadn't moved. She backed up again, bracing herself for another run, but the door opened softly and was left slightly ajar. She approached it cautiously, worried about what she was going to find inside. She reached out and slowly pushed it open, looking around to see where he had slouched back to. He was standing with his back to her, leaning over his table as he poured another drink. She slipped inside and closed the door.

"Athos-"

"I asked to be left alone," he interrupted her.

"You didn't ask me anything," she pointed out.

He sighed and moved away from the table, heading towards his bed. He was barefoot, she noticed, his boots abandoned in a heap on the floor, his shirt untucked and his jacket and uniform slung over the back of a chair. He still didn't look at her.

"Leave me alone d'Artagnan, just go home," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, a cup of wine firmly in his hand.

"I won't," she crossed her arms stubbornly, still standing with her back to his door.

Finally he looked at her, and she saw that his eyes were red, and slightly unfocused. The room smelled of wine and there were two empty bottles on the table.

"What do you want from me d'Artagnan?" he asked, exasperated. "You don't think I've talked enough for one night? You want to come along and see if there's anything else you can get out of me?"

His words stung her. "That's not fair," she said quietly.

"No?"

"No."

He emptied his cup of wine and watched her warily as she moved further into the room. She was starting to get the feeling that Aramis and Porthos may have been right. This could go very, very wrong.

"Well?" he grumbled.

Apparently she had been staring at him in silence for a little bit too long.

"I just...I needed to check that you were alright," she shrugged helplessly, struggling to find something to say, and fighting the urge to say what she knew she couldn't.

"As you can see I am still in one piece," he opened his arms out and gestured to himself, spilling some wine as he did so.

"Yes, you look in fantastic shape," she snapped.

His eyes narrowed at her tone and he stood up and walked over to her.

"I have asked you to leave d'Artagnan, and I would suggest you do so right now, before one of us says something they regret."

"Look, I didn't mean to snap at you, but you are clearly not alright," she said. "Have you forgotten that I witnessed the fallout the last time she entered your life?"

He laughed. "You actually think you get it, don't you? You think you understand what I am thinking, what I am feeling, and you think that you being here is going to help make it better."

She swallowed. She had a horrible feeling that he was going to say something awful in his effort to try and get rid of her.

"You can't make it better d'Artagnan," he loomed over her. "I don't need anyone to make it better. I will deal with this, my way, without any interference from anyone, and without you hanging around like I can't cope without you. You think I need you. I don't. I don't need you here, and I don't want you here."

That wasn't too bad.

"You think that drinking yourself into a stupor is the way to make this better?"

"It's worked rather well for me so far," he said before pointedly draining the cup he still held. He walked away from her and moved to refill it.

"And what would happen if she made her move while you were too blind drunk to defend yourself?"

He turned back to face her and shrugged. "Then she wins."

"And what if it's not you?" she cried, exasperated.

"What do you mean?" he looked genuinely puzzled.

"You're not the only one she'd tried to kill, remember. What if she tries to kill me again, or goes for Porthos and Aramis? You know she is watching, you know she has taken an interest in me. She could easily have taken the same notice of them."

"Then it'll be my fault and I will add it to my long list, d'Artagnan," he shouted.

"No!" she shouted back. "It will not be your fault, unless you are unable to help because you are sulking in here, hiding away from us."

She bowed her head and took a deep breath. She hadn't come here to argue with him. She had known that he would try his best to push her away, and she had known that he would be able to do nothing but blame himself for every part of what was happening.

"Athos, please," she said softly, lifting her head to look at him. "We need you, I need you."

"Leave me alone d'Artagnan," he was almost pleading with her.

"You made me a promise. All that has changed since then is you having to share your story with the others. Have you forgotten it so easily?"

He looked at her then for a long moment, a myriad of emotions on display but moving too quickly for her to see most of them. He stepped towards her and stopped in front of her. She stood frozen while he reached over with one hand and pulled the hat from her head, while his other arm drew her too him and wrapped around her. Suddenly she was pressed against him, her head tucked comfortably on his shoulder as he hugged her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered, over and over. She could hear the catch in his voice and she felt the crushing blow of guilt of her own as she realised she had pushed him almost to tears.

She wrapped her arms around his back and held onto him tightly, moving her head so that her face lay in the join between his shoulder and his neck. She wanted desperately to kiss the bare skin that rested against her mouth.

They stayed that was for several minutes, his apologies trailing off and being replaced with steady breaths. She kept her own breathing steady, at war with the thunderous beating of her heart. She could stay like this forever and be perfectly happy.

Eventually, though, he pulled away, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"Go home, d'Artagnan," he said softly. She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her. "I need to be alone for now, but I will see you tomorrow."

She tried one last tactic. "Is it safe?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "A tad below the belt perhaps?" he asked dryly as she blushed. "You'll be fine. She will have a greater plan than just snatching you off the street, don't worry."

"But-"

"Don't make me ask again."

She sighed in defeat. There was a possibility that he may be better now than if she hadn't come anyway. Her reason was simply now that she didn't want to go.

She smiled weakly at him. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight."

Impulsively, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. She avoided his gaze as she scurried out of the room, her heart pounding. She closed his door behind her and leaned against it for a moment. She had just kissed him! What was she _thinking_?

She closed her eyes in mortification, but opened them almost immediately as she heard through the door the unmistakable sound of him pouring himself another drink.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N Here we are! Thanks to obh614, Flo, fariedragon and Dani Malfoy Granger for your encouragement! Especially appreciated after a particularly difficult chapter, that I'm still not entirely sure of. Oh well, onwards and upwards!_

_I suddenly realised I had three months of gap in the story to play with... _

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 16**

It was almost dawn by the time Charline finally closed her eyes in sleep. The hour had been late when she finally arrived home, but sleep was still a long time coming. The events of the day, or days, before were weighing heavily on her, and she had sent herself into a new level of dread with the memory of that kiss.

Was she now imagining things with the look of horror she had seen on his face? Or was it the look of anger she sometimes saw when she pictured the moment? Perhaps neither. Was it her kiss that had led him to drinking more after she left? Maybe the thought of another woman causing him hassle had pushed him over the edge. Maybe he just didn't appreciate being touched uninvited.

Maybe he had just looked on it as a brotherly kiss in answer to the one he had placed on her forehead yesterday morning, which she could still feel burning on her skin.

Or maybe he had realised with that movement how she truly felt, and the thought of it had indeed horrified him.

All of these question and more made her toss and turn in her bed for hours, quietly thanking the powers above that Constance and her husband were not home to be disturbed by her. Her eyes remained blessedly dry – she couldn't help but feel that the events of these last weeks had turned her into some sort of overly-feminine emotional wreck. She really wasn't used to it, but then she had never been in love before, not properly.

Her feet felt like lead as she walked her way to the barracks in the morning. She was absolutely dreading what she might find when she looked at Athos, not least because she had left in defeat when he had poured another drink the night before, and didn't know how bad it had truly gotten.

A group of musketeers were leaving the yard as she entered it, obviously on their way to their first duty of the day. They called a greeting to her as they passed, but she could only manage a weak smile and a feeble wave as she passed them. A couple laughed, suggesting they thought that she had spent her evening looking at the bottom of a bottle, but she really didn't care.

She spotted Aramis and Porthos straight away, getting in some sword practise while they waited for their duties to begin. She passed their table as she approached them, noticing that there was a bowlful of food waiting for her beside her normal seat.

"Morning," she said softly as she arrived at Porthos' side. They immediately stopped and put down their weapons.

"Morning. Everything alright?" Aramis asked. Porthos was looking at her carefully.

She shrugged and moved over to her breakfast, sitting down and pulling the bowl towards her. "I honestly don't know," she said. "I thought so, so I left, but I heard him pouring another drink so I don't know how bad it got. Have you seen him?"

"Briefly. He went straight to the captain's office when he came in, hasn't been back since." Porthos glanced up at Treville's office as he spoke before hooking a long leg over the bench and sitting at the table.

Aramis slumped down next to him. "I'm sure it will be fine d'Art, he didn't look half dead when he came in. That's always a good sign with Athos!" he grinned at her.

She said nothing, but turned her attention to the bowl in front of her, playing with the contents without actually eating anything. She could feel Porthos and Aramis' eyes on her as they continued their easy, quiet banter around her. She had nothing else to say to them though; she wasn't about to tell them what was really playing on her mind.

A nudge to her foot was ignored, but the soft kick that hit her shins afterwards got her attention and she looked up to see Aramis looking at her innocently.

"Here he comes," said Porthos, catching her attention. She looked up quickly and saw that Athos was indeed walking towards them from the bottom of the stairs.

He looked...fine. He didn't look like he had spent the entire night drinking, although she knew he was good at hiding it. But he didn't grab hold of the table with a shaking hand to hold onto it while he sat himself down, and he didn't have grey bags under his eyes, or bleary eyes.

The small smile he gave her in greeting as he sat next to her also told her that he wasn't angry.

"I've told the captain everything," he said once he was comfortable.

"Ah," said Aramis. "And how did that go?"

"A lot easier than telling you I should imagine," said Porthos wryly. For a moment Charline thought Aramis might even have blushed a little, and she was glad that Athos did not immediately tense up beside her.

"It was fine. He agrees that our focus for now needs to be on dealing with the Cardinal, and with Anne," Athos managed not to flinch at the name. "We cannot sit here and wait for them to make their move. We know she is happy to get rid of me in some way, but she has also taken an interest in d'Artagnan, whether due to me or for her own sake we can't tell. I refuse to sit and wait until something happens, or one of you goes missing."

D'Artagnan paled as she remembered the horrible feeling of trying to find Athos in the dark streets of Paris in her dream, the dread of knowing he was missing and that his wife was stalking them in the darkness.

She sat up straight with a jolt. "Oh God."

"What is it?" Athos turned to her sharply.

"D'Artagnan?" Porthos prodded.

She put her head in her hands with a groan. "I'm so stupid, so stupid."

"D'Artagnan, none of need heart attacks this morning. Could you explain your stupidity please, before Athos has one?" Aramis said, his voice dry.

She lifted her head and glanced at Athos and could see immediately that she had alarmed him. His eyes were searching her face for an answer. She realised with a sudden warmth that his hand had reached out and gripped her knee in his worry. She fought down the blush and attempted to explain herself.

"The smell, the lavender. Porthos, do you remember I said?"

He nodded, while the others looked confused.

"There was another scent, but I couldn't place it at the time. It was jasmine."

She felt Athos stiffen slightly by her side. "Anne."

"Yes, but we knew that she was the killer d'Artagnan!" Aramis was still confused.

"I knew the scent though, I recognised it. From before!" she let her head drop back into her hands. "I can't believe I didn't remember. I met her! The first night I came to Paris, I met her!"

A hand pulled one of hers away from her face, forcing her to lift her head. Athos was gently holding her wrist, but his face looked anything but gentle.

"What do you mean?"

"The first night I came here, she saw me in a tavern. She, well, she took a liking to me, tried to...you know," she fidgeted at the memory of having to persuade this beautiful woman that she wasn't interested. "She was angry that I didn't want her. When I left my room to pay the innkeeper in the morning, she broke into my room and left a bloody knife on my pillow. She had killed the man she was with and tried to blame me. She denied it of course, but now I know it was her."

Athos looked nothing short of horrified.

"Have you seen her since?" asked Porthos, his voice tight.

She nodded. "A couple of times she's tried to talk to me, seduce me I suppose. Then there was-" she stopped suddenly, the colour draining from her face.

"What?" Aramis asked sharply.

"She knows where I live," she said softly, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

There was silence for a few moments, until Aramis broke it with a very quiet question. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she nodded. "She turned up there a month or so ago, spoke to Constance. I knew it was her from the description she gave me. She said that Milady frightened her, and she was looking for me."

She looked at Athos, who she realised with a jolt was still holding onto her wrist. He looked furious.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, and realised that his anger was, for once, not aimed at her.

"Now what?" asked Porthos.

"Now it's even more important that we go with the captain's suggestion," Athos answered.

"Which was?" Charline asked.

"We leave."

"What? Run away?" Aramis spluttered. "How on earth is that going to help anyone?"

"No, we are not retreating," Athos turned to look at him, his grip on d'Artagnan's wrist not changing as he moved. She wondered briefly if he was aware he was still touching her. "We are being sent by the captain on a mission that will take us out of Paris for a month or so."

"To where?" Porthos looked intrigued.

"He hasn't decided yet."

"So we are running away." Aramis sounded faintly disgusted, and his grimace was shared by Porthos.

"No. We are going to come back with a flawless plan, to finish both of them."

"Both?"

"Anne, and the cardinal."

Aramis and Porthos' faces suddenly changed to ones full of interest.

"I like it," Aramis grinned.

"But we don't know where we are going?" Charline asked quietly.

"Yes, we do. The captain hasn't decided where our mission will be, other than somewhere north out of Paris. But we are going south."

"South?" she asked.

He turned to look at her. "To Gascony."

Her heart leapt for a moment and she smiled at him. To go home! She hadn't realised until then how much she had longed to see it again, to smell it again.

Her smile faded. "But, the farm..."

"Needs rebuilt," Porthos answered.

"I assume there will be another building we can stay in?" Aramis asked.

She nodded. Everyone seemed to be on board with this idea instantly, but she had major concerns.

"She knows where I'm from, she knows about the farm. Won't she think we would perhaps go there if we wanted to disappear?"

"No, she will believe we have gone north on a job that Treville will get sanctioned by the king," Athos shook his head. "You are right, she knows where you are from, but she also knows that you sold the land nearly two weeks ago."

"I did what?"

She couldn't believe this. Did this mean that this plan had been being discussed for a while? Since Labarge even? She felt her neck begin to flush as her anger spread. How dare they make plans for her without her knowledge.

"Before you start shouting at us, we knew nothing about this. The captain let the cardinal know you had got rid of the land as a safety option." Athos was looking at her with a raised eyebrow. He squeezed her wrist and let go.

She wasn't quite sure she was entirely comfortable with him recognising her temper building quite so quickly.

"And if she follows us?" she asked. She was still not happy with this plan.

"She won't. We will leave tonight and head north. After her mistakes with Gallagher the cardinal will be loath to let her go far. We will also have musketeers checking our route regularly. She is good at hiding in the shadows, but every musketeer in Paris will be looking for her. We will know where she is."

"I guess it's all been planned then, hasn't it?" she said with a shrug.

"It has," Athos said firmly.

She looked across at Porthos and Aramis, both of whom were smiling at her. She let her excitement come through and smiled back at them. She was going home, and they were coming with her.

They began to chatter, making more detailed plans about routes, thinking about where they could be sent on a mission from Treville, and what they could be doing to take them away for as long as it took. They needed to be away long enough for the cardinal and Milady to relax a little, and to make sure that whatever plan they came up with was foolproof.

Charline said little, but listened happily as they talked. She was listing all the things she wanted to see, and do, while she was down in Gascony - beginning with a memorial to her father. She smiled softly as she thought about taking Athos (and Porthos and Aramis of course) to the nearby village, showing him (them!) the places she had grown up.

"Wait!" she burst out, straightening suddenly and startling them all. "If I'm going home I can't go like this! How on earth do I explain this to my neighbours?"

Athos shrugged. "You don't. You will need to go home as yourself."

Aramis' head whipped round to look at her as a huge grin broke out over his face. "Well well, d'Artagnan in a dress? This is going to be fun!"

She looked at him, horrified. Porthos was also grinning at her.

"But...I don't have any clothes, they were all at home."

"Then you'll need to borrow some. From Constance, I suppose."

Was she imagining the colour that suddenly appeared faintly in Athos' cheeks? No, she didn't think she was. Quite suddenly, the idea of going home as Charline didn't seem quite so horrifying.

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That evening she stood in her room, watching as Constance packed up some of her own clothes, adding them to d'Artagnan's shirts and trousers that had already been stuffed into the bags.

"You even pack like a man, honestly," Constance tutted.

Charline shrugged and grinned. "I'm in character."

Constance snorted, finishing what she was doing before sitting on the bed.

"So, a month or two with Athos? How on earth will you survive that?" she grinned at her.

"Aramis and Porthos will be there too you know," d'Artagnan huffed.

"I know. But your reaction to them is much less interesting."

D'Artagnan laughed at the lascivious look on her friend's face. She flopped down onto the bed beside her. "I'm so confused Constance. He is the most infuriatingly confusing person I have ever met in my life."

Constance waved a hand dismissively. "They're all like that. You think he might feel something for you?"

She shook her head sadly. "No, never that," she sighed. "I just can't work out if he cares, or if I'm a nuisance. Sometimes he says and does things that tell me he really does care." Her hand moved unconsciously to the spot on her forehead when he had kissed her.

"But then...oh I don't know. We just seem to go backwards and forwards. A lot."

Constance wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. It felt nice, but not quite the same as Athos' arms wrapped tightly around her.

"It will work out d'Artagnan, you'll see."

"Not the way I want it to," Charline said quietly, pulling out of the hug. "But I'll survive, don't worry."

The brave smile she gave her friend was answered with a thoughtful look, then Constance got up and left the room. D'Artagnan blinked at the open doorway, not quite sure what had just happened. She got her answer a minute later when Constance came back, grinning, with her arms full of recognisable green fabric.

"You're taking this one," she announced, dropping the green dress on the bed and folding it. "A couple of months is a long time Charline. It would be a crime to waste them."

D'Artagnan chuckled at the eager look on Constance's face. The dress would never be enough, but she would humour her friend. She was grateful that someone cared so much about her happiness.

The bags finally packed, Constance turned and faced her triumphantly, hands on her hips and a huge smile on her face. "All set."

Charline stood and pulled her into another hug. "Thank you, for everything."

There was a suspicious watery quality to Constance's eyes when they pulled apart. "I'm going to miss you, Monsieur," she grinned.

"You remember what I said?"

"Yes, yes. Bonacieux and I will leave Paris as soon as possible. He will want to go to buy fabrics soon anyway, and then we will visit some family."

"You will write to me, tell me where you are?"

"Of course! How else will I know when I am allowed to return home?"

"I am sorry for the trouble," Charline said apologetically. "But I will feel much better knowing you are safe."

"As will I. I was just teasing d'Artagnan. It's no trouble. Bonacieux has been wanting to go away to see his mother for some time, so I won't need to work hard to persuade him. It will do us some good to spend some time together anyway," Constance said, a genuine smile on her face. D'Artagnan was relieved to see it. She hoped that Constance could find a way to be happy.

"I'll leave you now. Some dinner before the others arrive for you?"

Charline nodded. "Please. I'll miss your cooking too."

Constance smiled at her once more before leaving the room again, closing the door behind her this time. Charline sat down on the bed, lying back until she was stretched out with the bags lying beside her.

She closed her eyes and thought about what Constance had said. She knew it was fruitless, but she let her imagination carry her away for a while. She pictured Athos' face when he had seen in her in a dress, and imagined replicating that same look on his face as he saw her once again. She thought of days in his company, working at his side, sharing meals and sitting together in the evenings, always dressed as herself, and he unsure how to feel about it.

She thought about what would happen once he saw her truly as a woman, the lingering touches of her arm, kisses on her forehead that lasted a moment too long. Maybe eventually he would take her in his arms, a hand gently cupping her face as he contemplated kissing her properly, a look on his face that showed how much he cared from her, how much he wanted her. She had never seen anyone look at her that way.

She sat up with a jolt, her heart in her mouth and her entire body shuddering as an icy blast shot through her.

After a moment she groaned and threw herself back on the bed, her hands covering her face as she acknowledged the new dread that took her over.

How on earth was she going to explain Alain?


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N Here we are! Thank you to my reviewers, and all of you who have followed or favourited._

_Guest – thank you so much! I shall look forward to torturing you some more..._

_Tianne – please don't send Milady, no matter how many more I throw your way!_

_Mazcotmaker – I hope so too!_

_Dani Malfoy Granger – Sorry to shock you! Well, no I'm not..._

_Obh614 – hope you haven't been freaking out too much!_

_Flo – I'm afraid she doesn't have a gay best friend. Sorry! ;)_

**Chapter 17**

"Are you serious?" Aramis asked, his nose wrinkled in mild disgust. The look on his face was echoed by Porthos' wide eyes behind him.

Charline would have laughed at the pair of them, if she hadn't been in agreement.

"Absolutely. Let's go." Athos left no room for argument as he dismounted, throwing the reins and a coin to the young boy who seemed to pass as a stable hand and striding inside the questionable-looking establishment they had stopped at.

"He's actually serious," Aramis stared after him, dumbfounded.

"Come on," Porthos said as he dismounted. "We've stayed in worse places than this before."

"Perhaps," Aramis grimaced as he followed suit, frowning at the filthy state of the boy who stood waiting patiently for the rest of the horses. "And when have you ever known me not to complain about it?"

Porthos laughed at Aramis' wide-eyed innocence and followed Athos into the inn, Aramis chuckling as he followed in his wake.

Charline slowly dismounted and smiled at the boy before walking towards the door. She paused outside, eyeing the dirty looking windows, the cracked paint on the door, and the unreadable broken sign above it. She couldn't fathom why Athos had decided to stop here and now, but she was exhausted so she wasn't going to argue.

Stepping through the threshold, her eyes struggled to adjust to the gloom inside. A lack of lanterns made the room murky at first, but after a few minutes she could see that it was a large space, with several tables and chairs dotted around. Very few of them were occupied.

She made her way around several tables to the one in the corner where Aramis and Porthos were already sitting, a young girl beside them no doubt taking their order for wine and food. As she approached the girl turned away from them, smiling at d'Artagnan as she passed her. Charline took a seat, watching the girl head to the bar, where Athos was conversing with the owner.

"I told you it wouldn't be the worst," Porthos was saying.

Aramis nodded in agreement. "Fair enough. Remember the rat in your pallet?"

"I'll never bloody forget it!" Porthos shuddered. "Thanks for that."

"I doubt Athos will forget it either," Aramis laughed.

"Where else was I supposed to go?"

Charline had a sudden vision of Porthos trying to fit his large frame into a bed beside a sleeping Athos and chuckled. She stopped when the vision altered and _she_ was suddenly snuggled up against him.

"What's the matter d'Art? Jealous?" Aramis wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

"Shut up Aramis."

She'd lost count of how many times she had said that since they had left Paris.

The girl came back with bowls of stew and bread for them at the same time as Athos, who was carrying the wine for her. They all approached the first bite tentatively, but were soon eating happily as the food turned out to be surprisingly edible. It made a nice change from slightly charred food cooked in the woods.

"So d'Artagnan, what are we going to find in Lupiac?"

Charline froze at Athos' question. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we've been travelling for five days and we should be there in another two or three. I think we need to know what to expect when we get there."

"Especially if we're going to be rebuilding a bloody farm," Aramis added dryly.

She sighed inwardly with relief. She had felt Athos watching her for the last few days, making her even more uncomfortable as she tried to keep her latest secret, and hoped that Alain would not be featuring in their time at home.

Smiling, she launched into a description of the farm as it had been: the house and outhouses that she expected were all gone, the acreage of the fields that belonged to it, the animals that were kept and the old stable block in away from the house that she expected them to be sleeping in for the duration.

"It's a stable, Aramis, so this will be a luxury in comparison," she warned.

"I am wounded d'Artagnan. Have we not slept outdoors these last evenings?" he held a hand to his heart as if in despair.

"Then why complain in the first place?" Porthos threw up his hands in exasperation, only half-joking.

"Would you not be concerned that some ill had befallen me if I didn't?"

"Absolutely," Athos dead-panned. They all paused for a second, then burst into laughter as one.

"Tell me Aramis," said d'Artagnan, determined to get her own back after days of teasing. "Can you milk a cow?"

The look of horror that briefly crossed his face was enough.

They passed a couple of hours this way, sitting talking, and drinking together, a pile of hats discarded in the middle of the table, and Charline realised that she felt truly happy for the first time in a while. Since they had left Paris things had felt like they used to; the four of them, together. The fug of wine had convinced her that Alain would not be a problem, and these next weeks or months at Lupiac could be just like this. Almost perfect.

Eventually, Athos called time on the merriment and directed everyone off to bed. He handed a key to Porthos and told him and Aramis the room number they were to go to.

Porthos winked at her before he left, and she squirmed in her seat. Athos couldn't possibly mean to share with her, could he? Of all of them?

"Leave the door open," Athos called after their retreating backs.

Apparently not. She tried to ignore the disappointment; maybe she could have found a rat in her bed...

She looked at him questioningly as he handed her another key. Their fingers brushed and she snatched it quickly, earning a raised eyebrow from him. She smiled weakly, embarrassed.

"Have you thought about when you are going to change into your other clothes?" he asked.

"Um, no. Do I need to, now?"

He shook his head. "Not at all, it's entirely up to you. I just thought you might want a day or so to get used to them again before we arrive at your home."

"Oh. I hadn't thought about that. It has been a while!" she grinned.

She was relieved to hear him chuckle at her. "It has indeed."

He stood and held out a hand to her, his other sliding his hat off the table. "Come on."

She stood and accepted it, letting him pull her through the room to the stairs that were hidden in the darkness on the other side. He walked up the stairs ahead of her, her hand still clasped in his. She was grateful for it, as it was even darker over here, but she also had to chant in her head a warning not to launch herself at him when she reached the top.

They walked down the corridor they reached at the top of the stairs, long and dark and lit by only two lanterns. Before she could stop herself she squeezed his hand. He stopped and turned to her.

"I just...I wanted to say, thanks I suppose," she stuttered. He said nothing but looked at her in confusion. "I mean," she said. "It's been so nice, these last few days. I feel like we're getting back to normal, you know?"

_Oh my God_, she thought, _I sound like such a girl!_

"You don't have to thank me d'Artagnan," he sighed. "Things should never really have changed."

She looked at him for a long moment. His eyes were sad, the lamplight reflecting in them and highlighting the flickers of red in his beard. The shadows of the poor lighting picked out the shapes and contours of his face. She didn't think she had ever seen him look more beautiful. She wasn't quick enough to stop herself from putting her hat on then reaching up and brushing his hair back from his forehead.

She froze, her finger hovering above his eyebrow. _What the hell am I doing?_

Her hand dropped quickly back to her side, and she was glad of her hat as she tilted her head forward to hide her face. "Sorry," she whispered.

The grip on her other hand tightened briefly and released. His hand then appeared below her chin and lifted it until she couldn't escape his gaze. She waited for him to speak, watching the way his eyes searched her face.

"You confuse me," he said softly. Her eyes widened. "Or at least I confuse myself in regards to you d'Artagnan."

"Sorry," she whispered, then cursed herself for breaking the moment.

He chuckled. "Stop apologising," he said, attempting to look sternly at her.

She nodded. She waited in the silence for what seemed like hours, waiting for him to explain his confusion, telling herself not to hope that it was what she thought he meant. He didn't.

"Come on," he let her go, walking away from her to a door halfway down the hall. There was only one more after it. "You're in here. We must leave early."

"Alright," she said, hoping her voice didn't show her disappointment.

She made to move past him to the door, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. She turned her head to the side and looked up at him. He still looked a little sad.

"There will be time for us to talk, alright?"

"Okay," she whispered.

Her eyes widened as he dipped his head and kissed her on the cheek.

"Goodnight d'Artagnan."

She could say nothing as she watched him walk away.

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They made good time the next day, so much so that when they reached that evening's inn Porthos announced that they should arrive at Lupiac the next evening. It forced Charline's hand and that night before she went to bed she laid out some of Constance's clothing.

It took her a while to get dressed in the morning, even though she had picked out the easiest looking clothes she could find. There were so many layers! At least she could dismiss the dreaded bandages for the foreseeable future. Her hair caused another problem. She had always had difficulty in putting it up herself, and although it had grown a little in the last few weeks, it was still not long enough to make her look anything other than Charles in a dress.

Eventually, dressed in a wine coloured skirt, white blouse and dark corset over the top, and her hair finally pinned into submission, she made her way tentatively downstairs and into the light and airy room where the others were already sitting to their breakfast.

She approached tentatively, none of them looking up as she made her way over. They were chatting amicably, Athos and Aramis laughing at Porthos' expense, judging by the looks he was shooting at Aramis. She said nothing and just slipped into the empty chair at the table and picked up some bread.

"Good morning," she said, as nonchalantly as she could.

The noise at the table all stopped at once. Charline looked at no one but reached across the table for some butter and then the jug of water that sat in the middle of the table.

"Are we leaving soon?"

"Yes. As soon as we've eaten."

She looked up at Athos as he answered to see him smiling at her encouragingly. That crooked smile that made her glad she was sitting down.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced at Porthos first, quickly returning the grin he was sending her way, and then to Aramis, who was looking at her proudly.

"Morning. May I just say you are looking glorious on this fine day?" he winked at her, earning a roll of her eyes and swipe round the back of the head from Porthos.

"Leave her alone," he practically growled.

"Hey! I was just being complimentary!"

Charline laughed. "Thank you, Aramis."

"Come on, let's go and saddle up the horses, let her eat in peace," Porthos practically lifted Aramis out of his chair and shoved him towards the door. Before he followed, the big musketeer leant down to whisper in her ear.

"He's right though. You look beautiful."

She blushed a little, but swatted him away with a dismissive hand and sent him on his way.

"Alright?" Athos asked her once they were alone.

"Fine," she answered, in between bites. She was starving now that the nerves of appearing in her dress for the first time had passed.

"How do you feel about going home today?"

She answered him with a smile. "I can't wait."

She ignored the dip in her stomach that came when the thought of Alain crossed her mind. It would fine. It had to be.

Athos kept her company while she finished her meal, saying little but keeping her ridiculously happy just with his presence at her side.

"Ready?" he asked her as she put down her cutlery, her plate cleared.

"Absolutely."

They had ridden about four miles from the inn when Porthos pulled his horse up beside hers. He said nothing until Aramis had ridden past, winking at her again on the way, to join Athos at the front. The two were quickly engaged in a lively conversation, their laughter falling back to her and Porthos.

"You managing to ride alright in that?" he asked jokingly.

"Just about," she grinned at him. "I did learn this way, but it's much, much harder."

"Things between you and Athos seem to be a little better," Porthos commented.

She glanced at him, trying not to laugh at the poor attempt at an expression of innocence he was displaying. "Yes, they are."

"Have you told him?"

"Told him what?"

"How you feel."

"No!" she was horrified. "Absolutely not! And don't you dare say anything Porthos, promise me."

"Hey, hey," he said. "Calm down, I'm not going to say anything. You know I wouldn't, and neither would Aramis."

"I know," she whispered.

"You can't go on like this though, either of you."

She looked at him sharply. "What does that mean?"

He shrugged. "Just that talking to him might not be as bad as you think."

He grinned at her, but refused to say any more. Eventually she gave up asking and just pondered his words as she rode quietly beside him. It kept her distracted and quiet for the rest of the day. Late in the afternoon she could barely remember having stopped for lunch, or what she had talked about to any of the musketeers who had ridden beside her at various points of the day.

She shook herself out of her reverie when Aramis halted in front of her and turned slightly to block the road. They all pulled up behind him.

"Only four miles to go," he said. "Are we ready? D'Artagnan?"

She nodded at him. Now that she was so close she couldn't wait to get there. She longed to breathe in the air again, feel the grass of her fields beneath her feet.

"Let's go," she said, manoeuvring her horse around Aramis and taking the lead on the final stretch of their journey. She knew these roads after all.

None of the others tried to ride alongside her, leaving her in peace to enjoy these last miles through Gascony. They would reach the farm before they reached the village itself, so that would wait until tomorrow.

When they reached the last mile she broke into a trot, the others following behind at the same pace. Her heartbeat increased when she saw the well she used to walk to when their own was blocked after a storm, then the stream she learned how to fish in. Next came her favourite climbing tree, and then there it was: the track that would take them into the yard outside the farmhouse.

With a kick to its flank, she spurred her horse into a gallop and rode ahead of the others, taking in the length of the track in no time.

She had almost forgotten what would be waiting for her. Tears sprang into her eyes when she looked at the charred remains of what used to be her home. The building hadn't been a large one, but one half of it had been completely destroyed and the other was just a roofless shell. There was a lot of work to be done.

She dismounted and walked around the back, bracing herself for what she knew lay behind. She was relieved to see that the damage to these buildings was not so bad, but they were still badly damaged. She could see by the yard that Bertrand had done all that he could and had cleared the area and kept it clean. She would need to speak to him to find out the true extent of the damage, and to thank him for finding time to help when he had his own land to tend to.

The work that had been done for her suggested that Bertrand still had all of his sons at home to help, and the thought was a little unsettling.

"D'Artagnan?" she heard Aramis calling her and made her way back round the house. All three of her musketeers were looking around them at the ruins in despair.

"I'm here," she called.

"Oh d'Artagnan," Porthos said, dismounting immediately and making his way over to her. He wrapped her up in a warm hug and she clung to him for a moment.

"I'm fine," she said after a moment, pulling herself out of his arms and wiping her eyes. "I knew what I was coming back to, right?"

"We will fix anything we can while we are here d'Artagnan," said Aramis, coming over to join them. "I promise."

"Thank you," she smiled at him.

She looked around him to where Athos stood, holding all four horses, with that look of guilt back on his face once again. What on earth was he feeling guilty about now? He couldn't blame himself for Labarge's work, surely.

Oh. He blamed himself for suggesting they come here. Well, she wasn't having that either.

"Come on. Let's go to the old stables and get settled in," she said brightly, moving over to take some reins from Athos. She smiled at him and breathed a sigh of relief when he returned it. "This way."

She started to lead them around the house when she heard the sound of several horses arriving in the yard behind her. They all spun around to meet their visitors, hands straight to pistols or swords. Three men cantered into the yard, pistols in hand, but dropped them when they saw d'Artagnan.

"Charline!" the eldest shouted, pulling his horse to a halt and sliding down from the saddle. He wrapped his hands around the top of her arms, having a good look at her before he pulled her into a hug. "We heard the horses. It's good to see you, my dear girl."

"Bertrand," she smiled warmly at him, accepting his hug with genuine happiness. "Thank you so much, for everything."

He pulled back from her. "I'm only sorry we couldn't stop it," he said sadly.

"I cannot tell you how glad I am that you weren't here," she said. Athos cleared his throat behind her.

"Oh, sorry! Athos, Porthos and Aramis, this is my neighbour, Albert Bertrand."

They shook hands and she did her best to ignore the questioning looks Bertrand was sending her away, obviously a little confused about the company she had arrived with.

"Are you not going to introduce us Charline?"

She turned to the two younger men who were now standing behind her, grinning at her. She swallowed the nerves and tried to catch the taller one's eye.

_Please don't say anything, please don't._

"Sorry. This is Bertrand's younger sons, Jacques and Alain."

Before she could say anymore she found herself squashed between the two of them as they wrapped her in the kind of bear hug she had been subjected to since they had known each other as children.

Jacques broke away and moved over to shake the hands of the musketeers, who were watching her embarrassment with some amusement. Alain, however, kept a hold of her, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"It's been far too long since you were home," he said.

"I know, I-"

The words were cut off when he leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth. Her eyes widened and she pulled away from his almost immediately. She gaped at him, furious, and panicked. She was aware that all conversation round about them had stopped, and she could feel the eyes of her friends boring into her skull. She pulled his hands from her waist, but her dismissal of him was wasted when he stepped away from her and held out his hand Athos.

"Sorry," he said. "Alain Bertrand."

_Please don't make it worse, please, please don't._

He grinned. "I'm Charline's betrothed."


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N Thanks again for your support! Special thanks to Raouldehadleyfraser, obh614, Dani Malfoy Granger, Flo, Mazcotmaker, Jeka11.G07, Tianne, Mick1505 and Princess of Peas for a variety of wonderful reviews that made me smile and laugh!_

_Please forgive all typos in this (and previous) chapter(s)! I am a bit of a stickler for spelling and grammar but I don't often reread before I post as I find it difficult to get the time to, so I just have to type and publish I'm afraid! Even less checks on this one because I really wanted to get you guys a chapter to read before I go on holiday tonight. Happy reading! (Sorry it's short...)_

**Chapter 18**

A strange buzzing sound filled her head, like a hundred bees had suddenly taken up residence in her brain and were determined that she wouldn't be able to do or think anything coherent while they were there. She wanted to shake them out, but all she could do was continue to gape stupidly at Alain and the hand that was still outstretched towards Athos.

She saw Athos' hand meet his in the middle and tried desperately to move her eyes to look at his face, to force the buzzing out so that she could hear what he was saying in return, if anything.

In her peripheral vision she saw when Athos moved stiffly away, turning abruptly and moving out of her sight. She forced her head to turn and as she caught him fully in her sights, the noise in her ears gave way and she heard the sound of his boots hitting the ground quickly as he strode across the yard and grabbed hold of the horses.

"Hang on Athos, we're coming," Porthos called after him. Charline turned her pained eyes to him and Aramis and found them both staring at her, a mixture of shock and disappointment on their faces.

"Wait,I...," she trailed off weakly. Porthos gave her a small shake of his head and the two of them turned and hurried after Athos, moving to take horses from him as he tried to manoeuvre all four of them round the house. She assumed they were going looking for the stable.

As soon as they were out of sight she rounded on Alain and struck him hard on the arm, only just stopping herself from punching him in the face.

"What the hell did you say that for?" she hissed at him.

"Alain, you never said anything-"

"Bertrand," she interrupted his father's wonder-filled speech. "It's not true, we were never _betrothed_."

"But, Charline," Alain insisted, but she held up a hand and stopped him speaking.

"Albert, Jacques, it's so wonderful to see you again, but do you think we could have a moment alone please?"

Albert looked a little sad, and confused, as he nodded and kissed her on the forehead, gesturing to his less troublesome son to follow him.

"We'll come around tomorrow Charline, show you what we've been doing," Jacques called over to her as they mounted, before walking their horse back down the road.

She faced Alain, hands firmly on her hips, her forehead burrowed in a deep frown. "I really, really want to punch you in the face right now."

She suddenly wished she was wearing her 'Charles' outfit.

"What? Why?" he looked genuinely confused.

"Why would you ever think you could greet me like that? Announce that we have plans to get married? Are you insane?" her voice was rising.

"I thought we did have plans!"

"I never agreed to any such plans and you know it!"

"Charline, we talked about this, for years," he stepped towards her, his hands out to take her by the arms, but she took a sharp step back from him.

"We talked when we were children Alain, children. And yes, when we were older we had some fun, but we were never in any kind of situation that meant you should be kissing me on the mouth in front of people, or telling them we were to be married."

She could feel the heat coming from her face.

"I asked you, before you left..."

She sighed and softened her voice a little. "I told you, Alain, that I would think about it. But I never gave you an answer, and we were never for one moment considering it because we actually love each other."

His face changed as he suddenly realised something. "Wait a minute. Are you angry with me because I kissed you, or because I kissed you in front of them?"

"What?" she was momentarily derailed by his change of track, and the sudden anger that filled his face.

"Which of them is it? Which of them is it that you're staying in Paris for?" he sneered at her.

"I am seriously reconsidering my decision not to punch you in the face Alain," she said dryly, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"You-"

"Just leave Alain," she stepped forward, looking him straight in the eye. The expression on her face obviously made it extremely clear that she was not asking as he briefly opened his mouth to say something more, but snapped it shut and walked briskly to his horse, mounting and following his father and brother at a brisk pace.

As he galloped out of sight Charline's hand went to her mouth as she let out her breath with a shocked 'oh' and stumbled as her knees gave way. She spent several minutes sitting on the ground in the yard, trying to calm her breathing and sort out the thoughts that were fighting each other for space in her consciousness.

Had she just lost one of her oldest friends? Had she lost possibly the most important person in her life with another concealment? What was Athos thinking? What were Aramis and Porthos thinking? How on earth did she deal with this now? Did she really have to go and gain back their trust, again? Was she supposed to feel guilty about not telling them that a man at home had proposed to her? Was she allowed to feel angry if her hunch was right that they all just assumed she had lied to them yet again?

Eventually she calmed enough and pulled herself to her feet with a sigh. _Here we go again_, she thought. She made no attempt to straighten her skirt, dust down her clothes or fix her hair. Steadfastly placing one foot in front of the other, she made herself walk round the back of the house and follow her musketeers. She assumed they would have found the old stone stables by now, untouched by the fire as it was hidden in the second field back from the main farmyard. She just didn't know what she would find when she got there.

The fresh mess outside the stable block told d'Artagnan that the others had indeed found their way there. Reaching the huge open doors, she paused for a moment to ready herself for yet another explanation she had to give.

The first thing she saw inside was the horses, all four of them with heads bent eating hay in the individual stalls they had been placed into. She looked around the large, open room but saw no sign of any of her musketeers.

"Hello?" she called. "Anyone here?"

She heard an answering noise above her head in the hayloft, but she couldn't work out who or what it was. She made her way to the ladder that would take her to the floor above, pausing to speak quietly to her horse en route, and quickly climbed up to speak to whoever was there. Whoever had waited to speak to her.

She wasn't hugely surprised to find that it wasn't Athos.

She hopped off the top of the ladder and moved over to where Porthos was moving bales of hay and bits of detritus that were lying around to clear space on the floor, presumably for them to sleep. He didn't stop until she was standing next to him.

"Where are the others?"

"Firewood."

"Oh."

She watched him in silence for a while longer then she moved away and unhooked a broom that was on the wall and followed his progress, sweeping the floor clean as best she could.

"Are you not going to ask me anything?" she enquired quietly, not looking at him.

He paused. "Do you want me to?"

"Well I thought you may be a little confused that someone just introduced themselves to you as my future husband!" she stopped, looking at him slightly incredulously.

Porthos sighed and sat on a bale of hay and she continued sweeping the loose hay that was littered around her. He said nothing, obviously waiting for her to speak.

"It's not true," she said firmly. "I was never going to marry Alain, and he should never have told you all that, or kissed me."

"Alright."

She stopped again, leaning on the broom. "That's it?"

Porthos shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"

She blinked at him. "I don't know."

"Look," he said, standing and walking towards her. "I was shocked, alright, we all were. I was hurt also, at the thought that there was more that you hadn't told us. But if you say it's not true, and you didn't hide anything else or lie to us, then what have I to be angry about?"

"Thanks," she said quietly. She recommenced sweeping.

"Are you going to ask?" Porthos said, causing her to freeze for a second.

"What do you mean?"she asked innocently.

She heard the musketeer get to his feet and approach her. She ignored it, but was soon stopped by his hand covering hers and pulling the broom to a stop.

"He hasn't said anything about it. He just went to get firewood and Aramis followed him."

"Okay."

"I'm sure everything will be fine once you've spoken to him, and to Aramis."

"I'll tell them the truth when we eat," she pulled the broom and her hand from his loose grasp and continued her work. "I'll finish here. Let me know when dinner's ready?"

He nodded and walked away, back towards the ladder into the main stable.

"D'Artagnan?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you hit him?"

She looked up and saw Porthos grinning at her a few steps away. She smiled back and shook her head.

"Pity. Next time."

She nodded.

"D'Art?"

She looked up again.

"He was hurt. Upset I'd say, and not just because he thought you'd hidden something from him."

She gave Porthos a watery smile and ducked her head, sweeping furiously as he finally reached the ladder and climbed downstairs. She only heard his voice one more time.

"Make it pretty up there d'Artagnan!"

She chuckled.

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It was another hour before she was called down to dinner beside the fire they had built in the field, then she wasted no time in telling the other two flatly that there had been no truth in Alain's claims, and that she had barely stopped herself from punching him out for doing what he had done.

Aramis laughed as she described her argument with him, and Athos just accepted her word with a quiet nod. That was all she got out of him for the duration of the dinner. It was painfully obvious to everyone that he was not speaking, but it just led to Aramis prattling incessantly in a vain attempt to fill the tension.

Eventually, Athos stood and announced that he was going to bed, startling them all with the suddenness of his movement. They watched in silence as he walked back through the field towards the stables.

"Don't you think now would be the time?" Aramis asked casually.

She scowled at him. "I know."

"Well, we're not going to sit here for hours waiting for you to speak to him, so go and do it now."

Aramis nudged her with his hip and pushed her off the log the two of them had shared for the meal.

"Sorry!" he said innocently, at the same time as he casually stretched out and took up the entire log. She looked at Porthos for help, but he just shrugged and nodded his head towards where Athos had gone.

"Fine," she said, marching away. She hadn't gone more than ten steps when she heard Aramis comment.

"They better sort all this out or I will lock them in a room together until they do."

She assumed she was meant to hear it.

For the second time that day Charline paused to take a final deep breath outside the stables, although this time she had to pull the heavy door open to get inside. She saw him immediately, in the stall beside his horse brushing it down. She approached quietly.

"We don't need to talk about it d'Artagnan," he said, taking her by surprise. She almost laughed at his predictability.

"I think we do," she said.

"You explained what happened, there's nothing else to talk about."

He put the brush down and came out of the stall, moving past her and heading for the ladder. She followed him.

"I'm going to bed," he said, pausing before he began his ascent.

"Me too," she shrugged, gesturing that he should continue to climb.

He raised an eyebrow at her but headed up the hayloft. Apparently nobody was going to back down here at all. She didn't start regretting the move until she had stepped off the ladder and her brain kicked in and told her that she'd basically followed him to his bed.

"So, um," she stammered. He turned to face her, his expression giving nothing away.

She groaned in frustration. "Talk to me!"

An eyebrow was raised with a definite air of aristocracy about it. "And what would you have me say, exactly?"

"I don't know," she threw up her hands. "Whatever you were avoiding saying while we were eating."

"You don't want to know."

"Yes I do!"

He regarded her for several seconds before he finally sighed in defeat. "Fine. I was thinking that trouble follows you everywhere. Even when nothing has actually happened there is still trouble ahead, and it's exhausting."

She recoiled back as if he had struck her. "You're tired of me?"

"That's not what I said," he said calmly.

"No, but it's what you meant," she snapped, her hurt turning quickly to anger. "Well, do you know something Athos? I'm exhausted too. I'm tired of you."

"Indeed," he said. How could he still be so calm?

"Yes, I'm tired of you not talking to me when something is pissing you off, of you showing absolutely no emotion any time I try to talk to you about what's going on. I'm tired of you dismissing me like I'm a silly little girl, and I'm tired of you pulling yourself away from me because I happen to be a woman."

"Are you finished?"

Now she could see anger in his face.

"No I'm not finished," she began pacing in front of him, unable to stop herself from speaking. "One minute you care, and the next minute you believe the worst of me. It's so tiring Athos, I never know how to act or what to say around you. You're so bloody difficult to be around! You say trouble follows me? Well misery follows you."

She bit her lip as she realised she had taken things too far. She looked at him quickly, just in time to see the hurt in his face before he hid it.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I think you've said enough, don't you?" he asked quietly. He turned his back on her and moved towards his bedroll, which was lying as near to hers as she had dared place it. He kept his back to her and began to get ready, removing his belt and weapons before pulling his shirt over his head.

"Athos-"

"Enough, d'Artagnan!"

She heard the hurt in his voice that time, but instead of reacting in sympathy her anger flared once again.

"You see?" she said. "Even now you won't speak to me! You won't tell me what you are thinking, or what you are feeling."

"I cannot tell you what I am feeling Charline, I won't!" he whirled to face her.

"Why not? You would have spoken to me before," she pushed, ignoring the temptation to rake her eyes of his semi-clad form. "Before you knew the truth of me, you would have confided in me."

"None of this would have happened for me to feel anything about if we hadn't found out about the real you d'Artagnan."

"Are you really going to continue to blame me for everything?"

"Who else is there?" he snapped. "Perhaps it helps to keep me in my misery."

"I have apologised, over and over. Why can you not forgive me for my lie?" she could hear the plea in her own voice.

"I forgave you for your lie some time ago d'Artagnan," Athos said quietly.

"So, it's just me then?" she asked, her voice also suddenly quiet.

He just stared at her, saying nothing. She couldn't read the expression in his face at all. She had never seen him look at her like this before. Back to anger for her.

"Fine," she growled. "I'm sorry for what I said, but if you can't speak to me, then I cannot do this anymore."

With her chin firmly raised she turned back towards the ladder, with no idea what her plan was once she got to the bottom of it. She couldn't work out if her anger or her devastation were stronger, she just knew that she needed to get away from him before she cried all over him, slapped him, or threw herself into his arms.

She reached out a hand to grab hold of where the ladder was attached to the wall. Before she made contact a hand reached further and grabbed hold of hers, pulling her further into the hayloft and spinning her round. From nowhere she suddenly found herself pressed up against Athos' bare chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her torso.

She stared up at him, unable to breathe as she waited for him to speak. She still couldn't read his eyes.

She only had a few seconds to try before his head dipped towards hers and his lips sought hers out in what surely had to be the most passionate kiss she would ever experience in her whole life.

_A/N It could be up to a fortnight before I post another chapter, so I thought I'd leave you with a little gift! ;)_


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